夜幕已经垂下,四周静得像碧蓝碧蓝的海底。你睡着,你的眼睑轻轻闭阖,像夜间的合欢树,羽状的叶片,无声地相合在一起。你睡着,而你灵魂的窗户却正打开。梦,像一只小鸟,从你灵魂的窗户飞出。梦从你灵魂的窗户飞出,它没有去找一棵树,不愿在树上停下休息。它不想唱一支旧的歌,深怕蓝色的夜海,会因歌声而把浪花溅起。它不肯兜着圈子盘旋,总是朝遥远又遥远的远方,不停地飞翔。梦,像一只小鸟,从你灵魂的窗户飞出,它从遥远的地方,衔回一粒春的种子;把春的种子,播上你心灵的花坛。 The night has drooped, surrounded by static blue as the blue sea. You fall asleep, your eyelids gently closed, like acacia trees at night, pinnate leaves, silently together. You fall asleep while the window of your soul is opening. Dream, like a little bird, fly out of the window of your soul. The dream flew from the window of your soul, it did not go to find a tree, do not want to stop in the tree to rest. It does not want to sing an old song, afraid of the blue night sea, splashes of the waves due to singing. It refused to circling circles, always farther and far away, flying constantly. A dream, like a little bird, flew out of the window of your soul, and from a distant place it reclaimed a seed of spring; sow the seeds of spring with the flowerbed of your heart.