清晨小镇里浓雾缭绕，
不远处的大山在雾气中若隐若现，
显得格外神秘。
我想起一首小诗，可突然又忘记似的。
即将离开，我又拉开窗帘，
灰白的惨光照进房间，小镇半景尽收眼底。
一切还是那样耷拉着耳朵，
我想树木从来都没有颜色，
因为我看见在无尽的天空深处，
高大建筑旁，
树木跟他们是同样的颜色——灰白，死绿
我多么希望有一束阳光从地平线那头，
直透入我的眼帘，
可是没有，起风了，灰白的风。
把天地云雾搅成一团。
即将远行了，祝愿自己有一艘乘风的大船，
在大海中能勇敢航行。
我想起那小诗了，我跟着轻吟:
也许多少年后在某个地方，我将轻声叹息把往事回顾，一片树林里分出两条路，而我选了人迹更少的一条，从此决定了我一生的道路。
拉上窗帘，不再看了。
附上我最喜欢的一首英文小诗《未选择的路》
The Road Not Taken
ROBERT FROST
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
