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文/樊功生

写诗的人不种田

但喜欢田里的忙碌

一会油绿

一会金黄

农田总能带来好多想象

诗人觉得很浪漫

种田的人不写诗

因为他们没有时间

他们大概也不太喜欢诗

觉得没有那么浪漫

麦子熟了

他们好累

只想肉多一点

酒猛一点

再就能多看一眼嫂子

他们不明白

为什么别人老是要写他们

哪天若是读了

他们会傻笑

因为这不是他们

Harvesting 

By Ken 

Poets rarely farm in the field, 

But always fond of its hussle. 

So green at one moment, 

Then next it turns golden. 

Harvesting always invites imaginations, 

And poets are preoccupied with their fascinations. 

Farmers can't be that poetic, 

Because they have no time. 

They might not even like it, 

As to them it doesn't seem so romantic.

It's again the harvesting season, 

And they only feel exhaustion. 

They just want a bit more pork

And stronger liquor,

And possibly a peek at beloved sister-in-law. 

Why others love to write about them,

Something surely have them puzzled. 

They would certainly chuckle

At those verses that are so delicate and pretty, 

Because those are not them at all.