I think of you very often,
And I’d write you every day,
But there’s so very little
That seems worthwhile to say.
It either rains or it doesn’t,
It’s either hot or cold,
My news is uninteresting,
Or else it has been told.
I think of your smiles often,
Though I can’t recall your touch,
But distance lends enchantment
And I miss you-oh, so much,
The only thing that matters
Id the fact that you are there,
And I am here without you,
And it’s lonesome everywhere.
-Roscoe Stansell
寄
我常常想起妳來，
本來每天要為你寫信，
可是值得一提的，
似乎又非常少。
不是下雨，就是天晴，
不是熱，就是冷，
我的消息又不太有趣，
有趣的我都已說過。
我常想起妳的微笑，
雖然我已記不起妳的一握，
可是距離增添了魔力，
我惦記你，哦！我多惦記妳，
我最關心的是，
你還是在那裏，
我還在這裏，可是你卻不在，
到那裏都事一片寂寞。
－RoscoeStansell
（轉載文）
