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Ive 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 neighbors trees resembles Jimmy Durantes nose for a while, then becomes amorphous as it slips on north. Other clouds follow, big and little and tiny on their march toward whereness. Wisps of them lead or droop because there must always be leading and drooping. 拉开了房间东边电脑上方的窗帘，感觉自己仿佛身处一个神圣的剧场，天蓝的舞台展现在面前。有好一会儿，邻居家树丛上飘着一朵像杰米杜兰特那大鼻子形状的云朵，但渐渐云朵就往北飘移，大鼻子也就散了状。周围的云，大的、小的、丁点儿的都随之往不知什么地方飘走了。缕缕白云或前行，或散去，这最自然不过了。 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 leavesclouds that only move a little. Trees grow and change and dissipate like their airborne cousins. 树梢随风轻摆，像往上攀附云朵，也像在嘲笑云朵。树肯定在想自己才是实实在在、稳稳扎根的重量级人物，而云朵只不过是积聚的水珠，只会偶尔挡住太阳的光辉。其实树也是一种云，是绿叶做的云，是不怎么动的云。树会成长、变化、老去，就跟天空的浮云一样。 | 
