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PLAYTHINGS

Child, how happy you are sitting in the dust, playing with a broken twig all the morning.

I smile at your play with that little bit of a broken twig.

I am busy with my accounts, adding up figures by the hour.

Perhaps you glance at me and think, “What a stupid game to spoil your morning with!”

Child, I have forgotten the art of being absorbed in sticks and mud-pies.

I seek out costly playthings, and gather lumps of gold and silver.

With whatever you find you create your glad games, I spent both my time and my strength over things I never can obtain.

In my frail canoe I struggle to cross the sea of desire, and forget that I too am playing a game.

玩具

孩子,你真是快活呀,一早晨坐在泥土里,耍着折下来的小树枝儿。

我微笑地看你在那里耍着小枝的碎梗。

我正忙着算账,一小时一小时在那里加叠数字。

也许你在看我,想道:“这种好没趣的游戏,竟把你的一早晨的好时间夺去了!”

孩子,我忘了聚精会神耍枝子与泥饼的方法了。

我找出贵重的玩具,收集起金块,银块。

你呢,无论找到什么便去做你的快乐的游戏,我呢,却把了我的时间与力气都费在那些我永不能得到的东西上。

我在我的脆薄的独木船里,奋勉地航过欲望之海,竟忘了我也是在那里做游戏了。 ucNHimC83JAtTT1r4Mey/K+zQpDvBelz74RkyOOfSLkszGO3Anb9q5sHa9sKt0X6

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