The little boy in my memory Was crying - how hapless this garden is, Father. Tiger Mount was not really a garden But a bonsai, composed Of grey, white, and black boulders, a pavilion, a footpath, and a small bridge, all crafted from stone Of course, there were greenish trees and sightseers as well "It's the layout that set them out," said Father Or perhaps what he said was, "It's them that set the layout?" Objective and a subjective, back then, Were often interchangeable
The rear of Tiger Mount was a towering rock Split in the middle, forming an abyss At the top, a small wooden bridge crossed over it Looking up at the sightseers on the bridge, fear enveloped me "Father, Tiger Mount is so antiquated that the bridge Must be decaying " "Son, everything is destined to rot, to eventually collapse," said Father
That night, I was overwhelmed by sadness for a person There must be such a person, like the last straw, Who would cause the bridge to collapse and plunge into the abyss The bridge, weathered by wind and rain, Weakened by the trampling of thousands Merely to sharpen the blade of probability And to slash it to the innocent straw
The straw will soon be forgotten Perhaps even labeled a saboteur Being so heavy and burdened, looking out on the bridge, or Walking in dancing steps Seldom will the straw be called a martyr because Salvaging someone follows behind, and Bringing forth a new bridge
Indeed, objective and subjective hold little significance We have all played a part in shaping the layout And in turn, we have been molded by the layout There is no one to have sinned But only one to have been doomed The rest combined is just to prove how good the bridge is Just to push up the bet Of the conditional probability Even today, the mere thought Of the martyrdom of a straw brings tears to my eyes
《虎丘》
记忆里的小男孩
在哭：那座无救的林子，父亲。
其实虎丘不是一座林子
而是一处盆景，灰色白色黑色的
大石头，石亭，石径，石桥
灰绿的树，当然还有一些游客
父亲说是布局摆放了它们
但也许是说它们摆放了布局
主语和宾语那时，可以时常被互置的
虎丘的后部高耸一座巨石
中间开裂一道深涧，顶上架着一座小木桥
抬头望着游人桥上走，恐惧抓住我的心：
父亲，虎丘有年代了，木桥定已腐朽
是的孩子，万物都会腐朽，直至塌圮
晚上我为一个人悲伤着，总会有这么个人
像最后一根稻草
压塌了木桥，坠落深渊
木桥受风雨侵蚀，受万人践踏和摇动
就是为了把概率磨得越来越薄
砍向
这棵无辜而不幸的稻草
稻草会很快被遗忘
甚至被埋怨为破坏者
为何这般体重，为何背着包袱
为何站在桥上看风景，为何踩着舞步
稻草鲜有可能
被称为一个殉道者，舍身救了身后某个人
并让道上有了一座新桥
没错，主语和宾语并不重要
我们都参与了布局
从而我们又都被布局其中
没有一个人是有罪的
只有一个人是不幸的
其他人合起来，都只是证明木桥有多好
都只是在推高条件概率的赌注
即使今天，只要想到一棵稻草的殉道
我也会流泪的
Memory of Tiger Mount
The little boy in my memory
Was crying - how hapless this garden is, Father.
Tiger Mount was not really a garden
But a bonsai, composed
Of grey, white, and black boulders, a pavilion, a footpath, and a small bridge, all crafted from stone
Of course, there were greenish trees and sightseers as well
"It's the layout that set them out," said Father
Or perhaps what he said was, "It's them that set the layout?"
Objective and a subjective, back then,
Were often interchangeable
The rear of Tiger Mount was a towering rock
Split in the middle, forming an abyss
At the top, a small wooden bridge crossed over it
Looking up at the sightseers on the bridge, fear enveloped me
"Father, Tiger Mount is so antiquated that the bridge
Must be decaying "
"Son, everything is destined to rot, to eventually collapse," said Father
That night, I was overwhelmed by sadness for a person
There must be such a person, like the last straw,
Who would cause the bridge to collapse and plunge into the abyss
The bridge, weathered by wind and rain,
Weakened by the trampling of thousands
Merely to sharpen the blade of probability
And to slash it to the innocent straw
The straw will soon be forgotten
Perhaps even labeled a saboteur
Being so heavy and burdened, looking out on the bridge, or
Walking in dancing steps
Seldom will the straw be called a martyr because
Salvaging someone follows behind, and
Bringing forth a new bridge
Indeed, objective and subjective hold little significance
We have all played a part in shaping the layout
And in turn, we have been molded by the layout
There is no one to have sinned
But only one to have been doomed
The rest combined is just to prove how good the bridge is
Just to push up the bet
Of the conditional probability
Even today, the mere thought
Of the martyrdom of a straw
brings tears to my eyes