每个人的心中都有一座城,一座青色的小城。那是用灰石砌成的小城,青石板铺成的小路因行人的往来而磨得光滑,雨水久积于脚印里以至于生了苔。碧茸茸的枝蔓爬上墙根,葛藤攀过城门,覆满顶端,在风的轻拂下向着平房上方的袅袅炊烟招手。登临城台,唯见翠墨的树掩映着通向远方的路。绿水青天,一碧万顷。这城,我窃以“故乡”称之。然而究竟何处是乡,我却惘然了多年。 Everyone’s heart has a city, a small blue city. It was a small town built of gray stones. The bluestone-paved path was smoothed by pedestrians’ contact, and the rain was so long in the footprints that it was mossy. Biurry vine branches climbed the wall roots, kudzu climbed over the city gate, covered the top, under the winds of flirting toward the curl above the cottage waved waved. Ascend to the city of Taiwan, only see Cui ink tree hidden in the road leading to the distance. Green water sky, a Biwan are. This city, I stole the “hometown” called. However, where exactly is the township, but I suddenly for many years.