女儿十年级有一首诗，我以前看了好几遍都不大懂，今天用Google翻译了一下，还是看不太懂。好像是在说这个世界就像上古的河流进化到现在这个样子一样由以前的干净纯洁变成现在的污浊不堪，而根源在于人类的活动干预。我在想，她是不是也觉得人类本身的进化也是这个不好的样子。
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进化的河流
一、
在寂静的森林里，风在吹，
阴影若隐若现，树根伸入地下。
隐藏在远处，一条纯净的河流在流淌。
美丽，可爱，却充满忧伤，
充满了从未被发现的痛苦孤独。
一条人类的眼睛永远无法触及的河流。
环绕在什么都没有生长的地方，
孤鸟的名叫是唯一的声音。
一条人类的眼睛永远无法触及的河流。
迷失在最深的雪地深处，
寒冷而寂静，就像一座古老的坟墓。
一条人类的眼睛永远无法触及的河流。
人类冒险靠近，
但只能走到这一步，因为河流是不安全的。
一条人类的眼睛永远无法触及的河流。
江河依旧，像幽灵一样未被触及，
等待，等待，等待人类的到来。
然而它永远没有曝光。
一条人类的眼睛永远无法触及的河流。
二、
曾经有一条河流，
圣洁无瑕。
它给与生活，
赋予生命，
也有死亡，
还有幸福。
对她周围好的善良的和自由的人来说，
必不可少。
它存在了许多世纪，
干净，
清纯。
直到人类误入歧途，
直到青蛇来了，
直到一切分崩离析。
恐怖在城市升起，
黑烟，
黑暗的声音。
尖叫声像碎片一样划破了黑夜，
险恶的笑容闪闪发光。
然后，
河流不再清澈。
开始散发死鱼的腥味，
充满恶臭和疾病。
它不再纯洁。
它开始变红，
红如血，浓如血，
热情、有力的红色。
它（的流动）被（人类）内疚，
有错误和秘密的内疚，所驱使。
人类不能再饮用它了。
空气变得浓稠；
生命没了，
唯一剩下的
是红色的河。
三、
Pasajeros （乘客）流入和流出河流，
人类（mén）在无休止的重复中滑动打开和关闭。
脸上闪烁，交换微笑，说客气话，
然而没有人交谈。
Puertas está cerrando （门在关闭）河流冷静而无感情的声音，
(mén zaì guan)门在关。
来自布鲁克街的 pasajeros（乘客） 上车，
座位被移动，
“（xíe xíe）”谢谢，白发女子入座，笑道。
接着，
(hé) 它又动了。
到处都是响亮的身体，
狭窄的，
caliente, 热的，
mal ventilado. 闷的。
香烟的烟雾高悬在空中，
人们摇摆着，
有人大声咳嗽。
这条河停在 avenida de ciprés（柏树大道），
(rén xià laí) 人下车，
消失不见了。
每个人都是disconocido不相识
大家都（gu dan）孤单。
但在那条río河流中，
每个人都是，
暂时地
(zài yi qi)在一起。
四、
河水奔流着，
它的岸边充满了数字。
它继续前进，
靠思想，还有创新，
保持活力。
言语和心灵喜欢交换，
还有笑脸和感叹。
河流并非一直存在，
但它一天比一天更长。
它已经遍布世界各地。
粗鲁的语言和评论，
挑战和战斗。
但也是，
小事，大爱。
河流拥有一切，
它的内容变化得像闪烁的火焰一样快。
有图片，
小说，
音乐。
它充满了情感和人，
但是，
这条河毫无生气。
五、
大地像玻璃一样裂开，
粉碎成碎片。
棕色和泥土，
干燥也不是蓝色。
脚印还留在泥土里，
曾经的影子还在。
泥泞和肮脏，
零件粗糙而光滑，
但总的来说，
只是一块贫瘠的土地。
它延伸了很长时间。
这片土地是孤独的，
只有尘土飞扬的阳光陪伴。
它曾经活过一次。
Evolution's Flow
I.
In the silent forest the wind blows,
Shadows looming, roots clawing into the ground.
Hidden beyond, a pure river flows.
Beautiful, lovely, yet filled with woes,
Filled with aching loneliness of never being found.
A river human eyes will never know.
Encased where nothing grows,
Where a lone bird’s call is the only sound.
A river human eyes will never know.
Lost in the depths of the deepest snows,
Chilly and silent as an old grave’s mound.
A river human eyes will never know.
People venture close,
But only go so far, for the river is unsound.
A river human eyes will never know.
The river remains, untouched like a ghost,
Waiting, waiting, for men to come around.
Yet it is forever unexposed.
A river human eyes will never know.
II.
Once there was a river,
holy and untainted.
It gave life,
gave birth,
gave timely death,
gave happiness.
Essential to those around,
the good free people.
It lived for many centuries,
clear,
pure.
Until the humans went astray,
until the green serpent came,
until everything fell apart.
Terror rose in the city,
black smoke,
dark voices.
Screams pierced the night like shards,
sinister smiles sparkled.
And it was no longer clear.
It stank of floating fish,
of illness and disease.
And it was no longer pure.
It was red,
red as dark and thick as blood,
passionate, powerful red.
It was run by guilt,
guilt of mistakes and secrets.
The people could no longer drink.
The air became thick;
life was gone,
and the only thing left
was the red river.
III.
Pasajeros flowed in and out of the river, and
its (mén) slid open and shut in endless repeat.
Faces flickered, smiles exchanged, polite words said,
yet no one talks.
Puertas está cerrando, says river’s cool, emotionless voice,
(mén zaì guan) it repeats.
The pasajeros from Brook Street get on,
seats are moved,
“(xíe xíe)” smiles a white haired lady as she takes her seat.
And then,
the (hé) is moving again.
Loud bodies everywhere,
cramped,
caliente,
mal ventilado.
Cigarette smoke hangs high in the air,
people sway,
someone coughs loudly.
The river stops at avenida de ciprés,
(rén xià laí),
disappear and are never seen.
Everyone is disconocido,
everyone (gu dan).
But in that río,
everyone is,
temporarily
(zài yi qi).
IV.
The river runs,
its banks filled with numbers.
It keeps going,
kept alive by ideas,
innovations.
Words and hearts are exchanged,
smiley faces and exclamation points.
The river hasn’t always existed,
but it gets longer and longer each day.
It has wound around the world.
Harsh language and comments,
challenges and fights.
But also,
small deeds, and much love.
The river has everything,
its content changing as quickly as a flickering flame.
There are pictures,
novels,
music.
It is filled with emotions and people,
and yet,
the river is lifeless.
V.
The earth cracked like glass,
shattered to fragments.
Brown and earthy,
dry and not blue.
Footprints still left in the dirt,
the shadow of what it used to be is still here.
Muddy and dirty,
parts rough and smooth,
but as a whole,
just a barren bit of land.
It stretches for a very long time.
The bit of land is alone,
with only the dusty sunlight for company.
It had been alive once.
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