总是习惯抬头看天，看天上飘忽的云，或起，或落。
我不也像一朵往北漂移的云吗？
若浮云如人，人亦如浮云，我们是否都应该随风飘飞，感受风的气息？
I’ve opened the curtain of my east window here above the computer, and I sit now in a holy theater before a sky-blue stage. A little cloud above the neighbor’s trees resembles Jimmy Durante’s nose for a while, then becomes amorphous as it slips on north. Other clouds follow, big and little and tiny on their march toward whereness. Wisps of them lead or droop because there must always be leading and drooping.
The tress seem to laugh at the clouds while yet reaching for them with swaying branches. Trees must think that they are real, rooted, somebody, and that perhaps the clouds are only tickled water which sometimes blocks their sun. But trees are clouds, too, of green leaves- clouds that only move a little. Tress grow and change and dissipate like their airborne cousins.
And what am i but a cloud of thoughts and feeling and aspirations? Don’t i put out tentative mists here and there? Don’t I occasionally appear to other people as a ridiculous shape of thoughts without my intending to? Don’t I drift toward the north when i feel the breezes of love and the warmth of compassion?
If clouds are being, and beings are clouds, are we not all well advised to drift, to feel the wind tucking us in here and plucking us out there? Are we such rock-hard bodily lumps as we imagine?
Drift, let me. Sing to the sky, will I. One in many, are we. Let us breathe the breeze and find therein our roots in the spirit.
飘忽的云
拉开东边窗户电脑上方的窗帘，感觉自己放佛置身于一个神圣的剧场，面前是天蓝色的舞台。一朵形状像杰米 . 杜兰特那大鼻子的云漂浮在邻居家的树丛上方，过了一会儿，又缓缓往北漂移，成了一堆乱云。周围的云，大的，小的，丁点儿大的，也都追随而去，不知飘向何方。缕缕白云或起，或落，因为云总是会有起起落落的。
树枝随风轻摆，像在嘲笑云朵，同时却又想攀附住它们。树肯定在想自驾才是实实在在，根基扎实的重要人物，而云朵也许只不过是耍乐子的水珠，偶尔会遮住它们的阳光。其实树叶是一种云，由绿叶积聚而成的云，只是不怎么动。树会成长，会变化，会消失，恰似空中的浮云。
而我除了是一朵有思想，有感觉，有抱负的云之外，还能是什么呢？我不是也在尝试着到处制造一个个雾团吗？别人不也偶尔会觉得我那些荒谬的想法就像奇形怪状的云团吗？感受到如沐春风的爱意和温暖的怜惜时，我不也像一朵往北漂移的云吗？
若浮云如人，人亦如浮云，我们是否都应该随风飘飞，感受风的气息，让风一会将我们扎根这里，一时又把我们拔起吹走？难道我们真的就如自己想象中的那样稳如磐石吗？
飘吧，让我飘吧！我要向天高歌。我们都是沧海一粟。让我们一起感觉微风的气息，在其中寻找我们精神的根吧。