我曾以为
春天是最美的时节
无论寒冬还是炎夏
我都在翘首企盼
秋天
则像公路上的黄灯闪过一样匆匆流逝
呢喃着告诉我们冬天将至
年复一年
我恍然大悟
原来
匆匆地不是秋天
而是我仓促的心
天空映出一抹淡淡的蓝
不似夏日的万里无云
不似冬日的不解风情
鸟儿悠闲地飞往过冬的住处
我抬头仰望
回想往昔的甜蜜回忆
让它们把我慢慢地吞噬
我被幸福围绕
“亲爱的，你从何而来？你会一直伴着我吗？”
沉默
微风吹过
轻拂着我的发丝
我忍不住松开发卡
任满头秀发幽然飘落
我知道
那一定是他的思念来访
“亲爱的，你要去向何方？你那无法抗拒的笑容我怎能舍弃？”
沉默
头发乱了
我缓缓地闭上双眼
然而我却无法忘掉优伤
我知道
那一定是他的刻意撩拨
“亲爱的，你会再回来吗？你的无边漂泊是我永远的牵挂！”
沉默
手帕被风卷起
飘摇而上
随风而去
一如他的背影再也无法追赶
我知道
那一定是他的行意匆匆
我只能目送手帕越飞越远
看啊
她在起舞微笑
她优雅地飞向远方
留我独自神伤
我是多么地羡慕她啊
能够无拘无束地在蓝天飞翔
再次抬头
我已热泪盈眶
“亲爱的，你终会把我忘记，对么？”
沉默
却有一朵孤旅的花飘落
花瓣从容地抹去我的泪痕
“你是谁的信使？”
沉默
我知道
那一定是在身在远方的他
我苦思冥想后终于释然
他本不属于我
他的一颦一笑和温柔似水
都已渐渐地远去
“亲爱的，你一定会回来的，对吗？”
依然沉默
但我确定他会回来
为了我还是别的什么东西？
或许只为找寻那曾遗落在此的温柔
I used to think of the spring as the most beautiful one,
Which I expected whenever the summer came.
As well as whenever the winter came.
The autumn seemed to be the yellow one
Among the traffic lights,
Which skimmed over hurriedly,
Just to tell us the coming of the winter.
Years after years,
I noticed that
It was not the romantic autumn, ,
But me,
Who skimmed over hurriedly.
The sky is blue,
As well as low,
Unlike the spacious summer,
Or the isolated winter,
In which the creatures flying,
Busily,cheerfully.
While I’m beneath the sky,
Feeling every single slice of affection
Flowing over me,
Serenely.
O,that’s it,
this quiet,gentle stream!
“Where do you come from,
You gentle one?”
I ask,
“Are you always so gentle,
As well as so light?”
No one answers me.
However my hair is fondled gracefully,
And counted carefully.
Therefore I could not help releasing my hairpin.
I know it’s him,
Who’s responding me.
“Where are you gonging,
You gentle one?”
I ask,
"Are you always so cheerful,
As well as so resistanceless?”
No one answers me.
However my hair is coiled viciously,
And my eyes is covered slowly,
Therefore I could not help removing
My tousled hair.
I know it’s him,
It’s him who responses me,
And disports with me.
“Will you come back,
You gentle one?”
I ask,
“Are you always so hurried,
As well as so boundless?”
No one answers me.
However my handkerchief was lifted gently,
Swayed joyfully,
That I could not help chasing my handkerchief,
Or rather chasing him actually.
I know it’s him,
It’s him who gets away so hurriedly,
The enchanting gentleness.
The handkerchief flys away farther and farther,
Still dancing.
She’s delighted,
I think.
For she’s gone with her grace, gone away.
Leaving me here,
For I could not fly,
Could not be free under the beautiful sky,
Freely.
I see them going far away,
With my tears.
"You will forget me long after,
won’t you?”
No one answers me.
A pretty flower comes,
And removes
The glittering thing from my face.
“Who took you here?”
I ask.
No one answers me.
I know it’s him,
The gentle one.
I was a little bit confused,
But understand at last,
That the gentle one is him,
Who does not belong to me,
But to the joy,
To the sorrow,
To the gentleness everywhere.
I see him going away,
Smiling.
“You will come back,
Won’t you?”
I ask.
No one answers me.
But I know,
Yes I’m sure,
He will come back,
Because of me,
Yet it’s not because of me.
Or maybe,
It’s only because of his gentleness.