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我们已越来越深入一种现实。

 We have sunk deeper and deeper into reality.

现实的人已不再会像夸父那样为了太阳而做长长的跋涉。黑暗总是悄悄地吞没了一切光明的灵性。

 In reality, no one would chase after the sun over immensely long distances like kuafu, the sun chaser in Chinese mythology. Therefore, darkness always quietly swallows all the wonders of light.

是越是得不到的，人们越是想得到它，还是得到了这样我们又想起那样尚未得到的？

 Is it that not the more something is unobtainable, the more we want it, or once we have obtained one thing, we want another?

我们的童年已不复存在，存在的只是残缺不堪的梦境。 

Our childhood is gone forever. What remains is a broken dream.

无法忘却的是在春天我们依旧放飞了手中那只古老而又美丽的风筝，无法忘却的是在秋天，那只折断了翅膀的风筝忽然摔得粉碎。

 What we cannot forget is that when spring arrives, we will still fly that ancient, beautiful kite, and when autumn comes, that broken-winged kite suddenly slams to pieces.

为什么不来南方呢？为什么不可以重新开始一种新的生活方式呢？朋友在电话的那端总是娓娓地劝我。 Why don’t you come to the south? Why don’t you start a new life? My friend has been enticing me over the phone in a sweet tone.

朋友是单身贵族，以她认为很适合自已的生活方式很惬意地生活着。然而如果在内地，一切都将是另一种模样。

 She is a well-off, single woman, comfortably living a life that she believes is the best for her. But things would be different if she were living in an inland town.

常常在黑夜中醒来，想梦中的事。不去想明天，所有的明天都是一个样。你不可能有更多的改变。一条新闻在五分钟之内，可以从市区的东头传到西头，而且是在公共汽车上。

 I often wake up in the dark night and then think about what I have just dreamt, but not about the following day, for all tomorrows are the same, and you cannot change much in them. A piece of news can travel in five minutes from the east of the town to the west—on a bus!

我无法忘却曾经的飞翔已化作深蓝色的记忆。只因为曾经飞过，并且带着飞过蓝天白云的超越，我小心地珍藏起那对受伤的翅膀。 

I cannot forget that the flying I once did has now turned into a deep-blue memory. Because I have once flown—flown with the transcendental feeling of crossing the blue sky and the clouds, I have carefully treasured my pair of broken wings.

不愿去想的是我们无法超越自己的悲哀，那种深藏不露的悲哀。

 What I do not want to think about is the sorrow that we cannot go beyond ourselves—that deep, hidden sorrow.

当我们痛苦着，困惑着，我们不是向前，而是退缩着回到了从前。从前是一只煮熟的蚕茧。

When we are in pain or confusion, we are not moving forward, but back to the past, instead. And the past is boiled silk cocoon.

我们得学会在这个时代不断冶炼自己，我们只能学会在冷酷的现实面前泅渡自己，我们终将带着微笑走向明天。

 We have to learn to continuously temper ourselves in this age and learn to swim across the sea of cold reality. In this way, we will be able to enter tomorrow with a smile.

曾经一次次地爬上华山，曾经一次一次地去教堂，不是怀着某种欲望，而是带着一颗虔诚的心登上佛坛、教坛，只求一块净土，让心安宁。我对一位朋友说，真正超脱的境界，不是脱离了现实的逃避，而是身居滚滚红尘中可以心静自然凉。人生就是台阶，我们得一级接一级地去拾。

Time and again, I have visited Mount Hua, and time and again I have visited churches, in search of pure land in which my heart can be at peace.I told one of my friends: The true transcendental realm is not to avoid reality but to keep a peaceful heart in the turbulent terrestrial world.Life is a flight of step. We have to climb it step by step.

拾得天荒地老，拾得辗转难眠，拾得泪流满面，拾得心静如洗。

 And this climbing may be time-consuming, exhausting, and filled with emotion, but it is all for the purpose of pacifying your heart.

就像那天来了一位朋友，他就坐在我的对面，他不紧不慢地说着，就有一种风景从他的背后冉冉升起，蓝天衬着白云，白云拖着微风，微风轻拂着窗前一树金黄的枯叶，静静的如水的轻轻流动让我的心淡淡地弥漫开来如晨雾。

 It is like what happened the other day when a friend came over. He sat in front of me, taking his time to talk, while a scene rose from behind me: A blue sky projected white clouds; the white clouds rode the breeze; the breeze swung a tree full of golden-colored, withered leaves by the window. The quiet, light, and water-like flow unfolded my heart into a morning mist.

我知道朋友正站在一个我看不见的山头上看自己的过去，他不去数那无聊的琐琐碎碎，他数自己走过了多少台阶，他在收自己的高度，我在他的志向中进入了一种境界，看见一个博大的世界。 

If I knew my friend was standing on a mountaintop invisible to me, watching his past. He was not counting those trivialities, but instead, he counted how many steps he had scaled, measuring the height he had ascended. This took me into a realm where I saw a broader world.

渐渐明了心中的日子，便是在一张没有铺垫的木桌上，端起一杯清淡的茶水，一口一口咽下去，一点一点地品过去，生活的面貌本来不过如此，平平淡淡才是真。

 I understand now that an ideal day’s activity in my heart would be just to pick up a cup of light tea from an unclothed wooden table, sip at it bit by bit and taste it little by little. The nature of a true life is nothing more than that. What is plain is real.

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