Clouds
人生好似浮云
I've opened the curtain of my east window here above the computer, and I sit now in a holy theater before a sky-blue stage. A little cloud above the neighbor's trees resembles Jimmy Durante's nose for a while, then becomes amorphous as it slips on north. Other clouds follow, big and little and tiny on their march toward wherever. Wisps of them lead or droop because there must always be leading and?drooping.
我在电脑上方打开了我的东边窗户的窗帘，我现在坐在一个神圣的剧院里，在一个天蓝色的舞台前。在邻居树上，有一小块云朵就像吉米杜兰特的鼻子，一段时间后，当它向北飘动时，它变得没有了形状。其他的云彩也跟着它大大小小地一起向任何地方行进。因为它们都在下垂。
The trees seem to laugh at the clouds while yet reaching for them with swaying branches. Trees must think that they are real, rooted, somebody and that perhaps the clouds are only tickled water which sometimes blocks their sun. But trees are clouds, too, of green leaves-clouds that only move a little. Trees grow and change and dissipate like their airborne cousins.
树木似乎在嘲笑云朵，同时还用摇曳的树枝向它们伸出手来。树一定认为它们是真实的，但也许乌云只是水，有时会遮挡太阳。但是树木也是由树叶组成的云只移动一点点，树木生长、变化和消散，就像它们在空中飞行的表亲一样。
And what am I but a cloud of thoughts and feelings and aspirations? Don't I put out tentative mists here and there? Don't I occasionally appear to other people as a ridiculous shape of thoughts without my intending to? Don't I drift toward the north when I feel the breezes of love and the warmth of compassion?
我是否只是一团具有思想，感情和抱负的云朵？我是不是到处都在散发出试探性的薄雾？我偶尔会被别人看作一种可笑的想法吗？当我感受到爱的微风和同情的温暖时，难道我不向北漂去吗？
If clouds are beings, and beings are clouds, are we not all well advised to drift, to feel the wind tucking us in here and plucking us out there? Are we such rock-hard bodily lumps as we imagine?
如果云是众生，众生是云，难道我们都不应该漂流，感受风卷挟着我们吹来吹去，我们是不是就像我们想象的那样坚如磐石？
Drift, let me sing to the sky, will I. One in many, are we. Let us breathe the breeze and find therein our roots in the spirit.
漂流，让我来向天空歌唱。愿我，我们是大家中的一员。让我们呼吸微风，在微风中找到我们的灵魂之根。
I close the curtain now, feeling broader, fresher. The act is over. Applause is sweeping through the trees.?
我合上窗帘，心胸变得更广阔，更清新。表演结束了，掌声正席卷树林。