家

我獨自走在田間的路上，夕陽像一個守財奴一樣正在藏起它最后的一點金黃。

白晝在黑暗中愈陷愈深，已過豐收的孤寂大地安靜地躺著。

突然，一個男孩兒尖銳的聲音響徹天空，

不知他從哪里穿過黑暗，只留下他的歌聲在這靜謐的夜晚。

他的家在這荒地的盡頭，在甘蔗地后，

藏在香蕉樹、瘦檳榔樹、椰子樹以及深綠的菠蘿蜜樹的樹影之下。

我在這星光下無人的小路上停下腳步，

看見昏黑的大地延展在眼前，用她的手臂環抱著無數的家，

家里有著搖籃與床鋪，母愛與夜燈，

還有小小的生命，他們滿心歡喜，卻渾然不知這份歡喜對于這個世界的意義。

The Home

I paced alone on the road across the field while the sunset was hiding its last gold like a miser.

The daylight sank deeper and deeper into the darkness, and the widowed land, whose harvest had been reaped, lay silent.

Suddenly a boy’s shrill voice rose into the sky.

He traversed the dark unseen, leaving the track of his song across the hush of the evening.

His village home lay there at the end of the waste land, beyond the sugar-cane field,

hidden among the shadows of the banana and the slender areca palm, the cocoa-nut and the dark green jack-fruit trees.

I stopped for a moment in my lonely way under the starlight,

and saw spread before me the darkened earth surrounding with her arms countless homes furnished with cradles and beds, mothers’ hearts and evening lamps, and young lives glad with a gladness that knows nothing of its value for the world.