雖然是周末习寸，但我醒得很早搏熄，天還黑著掐禁。我從后門出去师坎，聽見了大雁的叫聲。一群大雁從頭頂飛過存璃，我聽見這令人愉快的鴻鳴響徹天空狂巢。一群飛走延窜，一群緊跟著。不斷從頭頂飛過腺办，留下了優(yōu)美的歌聲焰手。那歌聲里包含著生命的溫暖，又是對遠(yuǎn)方的憧憬怀喉∈槠蓿總有一天，我們也會像這大雁躬拢，遠(yuǎn)飛而去躲履，因此最好是留下一首屬于我們自己的“歌”吧！
?It’s the weekend, but still I wake early. It’s still dark out. I step outside through the back door for a look and hear the sound of geese. A flock is flying overhead. I listen to their lovely honking falling to the earth. Perhaps, if I walk a little ways, I’ll hear them again. Perhaps that is a poet’s imagination. The flock of geese fly away, followed shortly by another flock. Overhead and away.
They too leave behind their splendid song. That song contains the warmth of life and a yen for the distant and remote. One day, we too, like the geese, will fly away and, it would be best, to leave behind a lovely song of our own.
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? 01.26.2018.?
