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本帖最後由 洋八路 於 2011-12-23 12:43 編輯
這雙腳。
走過了45個春秋,它輾轉中原,漂洋過海,酸甜苦痛,五味雜陳,十個指頭歷歷在目;
今晚,在這裡,對,就在這裡,在澳洲這片空曠多餘的土地上,我給它過45歲生日;
我讓澳洲的空氣洗它;我讓公園裡濃重的青草味熏它;我讓晚間積聚的露水醉它;我叫高傲無私的月亮吻它;我讓澳洲的烏鴉,麻雀和偉大的蟋蟀為它歌唱;
但是我還要等,不耐心的等,嘔心瀝血的等,無奈絕望的等,撕心裂肺的等,等到澳洲的雷公為之慟哭,落下滂沱大雨好好地泡它;
從低賤卑微,到此刻的高高在上,讓整個澳洲為之輕狂,過把足癮,死可瞑目。
The feet, it is of mine.
It has lived through 45 years. It has labored and staggered across a land of coarseness. It has travelled and drifted over oceans. It has found bitter-sweetness, ache and pain, scents and odors, of which the ten toes have all the reminiscences.
Tonight, here, oh, yes, right here, on the excessive soil of vast Australia, I cerebrate its 45 birthday.
Let decent Australian air wash it; Let the thick grassy fragrance simmer it; let the priceless dew of night intoxicate it; let the glorious and gracious moon kiss it; let the black raven, sparrows, larks, and the great crickets all come to sing for it.
But still I am to wait, wait with my impatience, wait with my despairing and crying spirit, wait by a heart full of riddles, till the Australian heaven is moved to whimper and thunder, till it downpours merry teardrops to bath it.
From base and low, to this high and crown, let entire Australia well spoil it, once for all its indulgence, let it die and close its eyes, for not a being as slight.
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