親親寶貝,路很遙遠...
親親寶貝,不要氣餒...
或許永遠說不出口...
或許傷心留在心中...
我會一直默默守護著你...
這是說好的承諾...
不會變...
不會變...
====
剩下不到一個月就要回家了...
心情不知道要怎麼去調適...
緊張...有點...
開心...或許...
不安的情緒一直在身體裡翻轉...
想要見朋友...
想要抱抱我家那兩隻...
更想要給我媽和爸一個大擁抱...
第一個不在家人身邊的過年...
我想多少都會有些小小的失落吧...
不管是我家人或是我...
少了火鍋圍爐....
少了親戚的熱鬧...
少了到處紅紅的裝飾...
或許能適應...也或許多了些離鄉的感覺...
要離開...
說不捨一定會...
那種感覺真的說不出口...
很像比賽前沒有辦法呼吸的感覺..
卻多了心痛...
從樹葉變黃到現在白雪覆蓋...
這整整半年...
是最甜美的時刻....
早上親吻你的嘴....
和你道再見...
晚上親吻你的臉....
和你道晚安...
虧你的"認真"照顧...
讓我多了不少肉...
但每次吃你煮的菜都是一種享受....
謝謝你忍受的我的任性...
謝謝你的細心照顧....
謝謝你總能讓我開心的笑...
謝謝你,honey...
i love you...
=======
他們兩人都相信
是一股突發的熱情讓他倆交會。
這樣的篤定是美麗的，
但變化無常更是美麗。
既然從未見過面，所以他們確定
彼此並無任何瓜葛。
但是聽聽自街道、樓梯、走廊傳出的話語——
他倆或許擦肩而過一百萬次了吧？
我想問他們
是否記不得了——
在旋轉門
面對面那一刻？
或者在人群中喃喃說出的「對不起」？
或者在聽筒截獲的唐突的「打錯了」？
然而我早知他們的答案。
是的，他們記不得了。
他們會感到詫異，倘若得知
緣分已玩弄他們
多年。
尚未完全做好
成為他們命運的準備，
緣分將他們推近，驅離，
憋住笑聲
阻擋他們的去路，
然後閃到一邊。
有一些跡象和信號存在，
即使他們尚無法解讀。
也許在三年前
或者就在上個星期二
有某片葉子飄舞於
肩與肩之間？
有東西掉了又撿了起來？
天曉得，也許是那個
消失於童年灌木叢中的球？
還有事前已被觸摸
層層覆蓋的
門把和門鈴。
檢查完畢後並排放置的手提箱。
有一晚，也許同樣的夢，
到了早晨變得模糊。
每個開始
畢竟都只是續篇，
而充滿情節的書本
總是從一半開始看起。
Love at First Sight
by Wislawa Szymborska
They both thought
that a sudden feeling had united them
This certainty is beautiful,
Even more beautiful than uncertainty.
They thought they didn’t know each other,
nothing had ever happened between them,
These streets, these stairs, this corridors,
Where they could have met so long ago?
I would like to ask them,
if they can remember -
perhaps in a revolving door
face to face one day?
A "sorry" in the crowd?
"Wrong number" on the ’phone?
- but I know the answer.
No, they don’t remember.
How surprised they would be
For such a long time already
Fate has been playing with them.
Not quite yet ready
to change into destiny,
which brings them nearer and yet further,
cutting their path
and stifling a laugh,
escaping ever further;
There were sings, indications,
undecipherable, what does in matter.
Three years ago, perhaps
or even last Tuesday,
this leaf flying
from one shoulder to another?
Something lost and gathered.
Who knows, perhaps a ball already
in the bushes, in childhood?
There were handles, door bells,
where, on the trace of a hand,
another hand was placed;
suitcases next to one another in the
left luggage.
And maybe one night the same dream
forgotten on walking;
But every beginning
is only a continuation
and the book of fate is
always open in the middle.
一見鍾情 ﹝Wislawa Szymborska﹞
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