寒假

Walking down the path I tread daily in my youth,

Smooth cement, now pitted by time's

ruthless truth.

Once a grand theme park where I'd stand and play,

Jumping with umbrellas on rainy days,

as if to fly away.

Overturned umbrellas, a spanking from mom, all seem so far,

Now just illusions before this small earthen scar.

The dried-up ditch, where songs with

Rong'er we'd sing,

Still echoes softly,

like a distant string.

Suddenly, a big yellow dog barks,

mocking my pose,

Before the ruins of my old school,

where memory flows.

"Don't laugh, old dog," I say,

"look closely in the weeds,

There, playing wildly,

are our younger selves,

fulfilling childhood deeds."

走过小时候天天往返的路

光洁的水泥，被时间凿得满脸的坑

小时候站在大砍是主题公园

下雨天拿着雨伞从上跳

仿佛降落伞带着我从天而降

掀翻的雨伞，被妈妈打肿的屁股

都被眼前的小土坡变成了幻影。

干涸的大沟，仿佛还流淌着和蓉儿洗衣服的歌儿

突然传出来的大黄狗啊，

讥笑和小学的废墟合影的我 

大黄狗不要笑，丛生的杂草里

仔细看看，里面满是和你一样

四处撒欢儿的小小的我们