师者一梦_师者

　　毕业后多年，　　学生们偷偷潜回夜晚的学校操场上，　　从透光的玻璃窗格里，　　瞥见我——他们的老师正在桌旁　　或在黑板边轻抚一支粉笔。　　有人擦去了他们的青春，
　　而当他们俯近细看时
　　这岁月愈是漆黑愈是寂静
　　超过了他们平生所知晓，
　　错过修习的课目永远缠绕着他们；
　　他们为何来？莫非
　　此刻还有更多什么值得记取
　　在这末了比起当初？
　　那是什么？——他们从时光之阴里所窥探
　　为了聆听，那被重复过X乘以X遍的，
　　难道是我为了围困一整个房间的
　　笑声所付出的徒劳？他们在嘲笑我么？永远？
　　然而我的过去已经升起在
　　我以往所有学生的眼睛里但
　　我想知道在他们往后是否有
　　其他更年轻更年轻的学生会伸向
　　这样一个世界，那里黎明永远不会
　　敲响终结，那毕业之钟。
　　Many decades after graduation
　　the students sneak back onto
　　the school-grounds at night
　　and within the pane-lit windows
　　catch me their teacher at the desk
　　or blackboard cradling a chalk:
　　someone has erased their youth,
　　and as they crouch closer to see
　　more it grows darker and quieter
　　than they have known in their lives,
　　the lesson never learned surrounds;
　　them; why have they come? Is
　　there any more to memorize now
　　at the end than there was then
　　What is it they peer at through shades
　　of time to hear, X times X repeated,
　　my vain efforts to corner a room’s
　　snickers? Do they mock me? Forever?
　　Out there my past has risen in
　　the eyes of all my former pupils but
　　I wonder if behind them others
　　younger and younger stretch away
　　to a world where dawn will never
　　ring its end, its commencement bell.