彩虹，
形狀彎曲的
像我女兒在紙上所描繪，
色彩排列的
像她背包上所呈現，
投射在濕答答的天空，
不再帶給我
任何驚喜，
儘管它能夠
隱藏自己的一半
在沒有雲朵的
藍空裡。
我好奇為甚麼
人們初次看見它
內心會被激起。
是因為
你等待了
整個冗長的下午，
看不到任何人
躑躅在細雨裡？
是因為
你聽到太多遍
相同的歌聲，
來自那嗡嗡作響
的方盒子？
是因為
爸爸業務所需
經常出差在外，
當太陽的光芒
霎時突破金黃的天空，
你聽到每個人的聲音
獨缺他的？
是因為
烏雲重返大地，
模糊了遠處的山頭
與收音機的聲音，
只有雨水
還在近處滴著，
即使你已看不到它們？
The rainbow,
bent the same way as
my daughter drew on her pad,
packing in the same order as
colors she had on her bag,
gives me no more surprise
when projecting on the sopped sky,
hiding the other half as it may
behind an unclouded piece o’ the sky.
I wonder why
it should excite people,
watching it the first time.
Was it because
you waited too long an afternoon
seeing no one on the raining outside?
Was it because
you heard the same song many times,
feeling no more from the humming box?
Was it because daddy’s away on a trip,
so often as business required,
hearing all voices but his,
when the sunlight broke awhile
on the golden sky?
Was it because
returned again the dark clouds,
misting up the mountains
so far away as the radio voice,
with only the rain dripping nearby,
seeing no more of it albeit?