2004-12-11 12:17:39尚未設定
Peter goes to bed
Peter was a lonely man watching TV. At 10 pm, He had turned on the TV, which stood on the floor in front of the sofa on which he sat. The sky outside the window was so dark on this night that his luxuriant white hairs appeared very bright and white.
The TV program was over. The TV stood alone on the floor; it looked like a black empty bottle. The snoring sounded like a stream streaming from Peter’s nose. He suddenly woke up from a bank of white fog, stood up and turned off the TV. His back was tired, and his right arm was just hanging there. The night was falling into silent black.
He raised his left arm like a child who heard his teacher calling on him. A squirrel could have run up the gentle curve of his waist, against which he was pushing with his right palm, like a plow working on the road.
After stretching, he went into the bedroom. Time disappears so fast; Peter feels as if his life is a tuft of arrows flying to an unknown place. There was a big bed in the bedroom. Spread out on the bed, there was a cotton-padded quilt; it looked warm, and was covered with stars. Beside the bed, a short lamp rested on a round low table. Peter turned it on. The light made a shadow of Peter’s figure behind him.
Peter sat on the bed to take off his shoes and socks. Then he stood up to take off his trousers and put them on the back of the chair. He put on a suit of pajamas and pulled back the quilt. It’s not easy for him to sleep deeply with the light on, so he turned it off. He lay down, put his head on the pillow and adjusted the position of the pillow with his hand. Then he pulled up the quilt and really smiled. Finally in the dark he dreamt: of his wife, of his son, of his daughter-in-law and of his grandson.
﹝Published by Ithaca Chatter, Cornell Campus Club ESL, NY﹞
The TV program was over. The TV stood alone on the floor; it looked like a black empty bottle. The snoring sounded like a stream streaming from Peter’s nose. He suddenly woke up from a bank of white fog, stood up and turned off the TV. His back was tired, and his right arm was just hanging there. The night was falling into silent black.
He raised his left arm like a child who heard his teacher calling on him. A squirrel could have run up the gentle curve of his waist, against which he was pushing with his right palm, like a plow working on the road.
After stretching, he went into the bedroom. Time disappears so fast; Peter feels as if his life is a tuft of arrows flying to an unknown place. There was a big bed in the bedroom. Spread out on the bed, there was a cotton-padded quilt; it looked warm, and was covered with stars. Beside the bed, a short lamp rested on a round low table. Peter turned it on. The light made a shadow of Peter’s figure behind him.
Peter sat on the bed to take off his shoes and socks. Then he stood up to take off his trousers and put them on the back of the chair. He put on a suit of pajamas and pulled back the quilt. It’s not easy for him to sleep deeply with the light on, so he turned it off. He lay down, put his head on the pillow and adjusted the position of the pillow with his hand. Then he pulled up the quilt and really smiled. Finally in the dark he dreamt: of his wife, of his son, of his daughter-in-law and of his grandson.
﹝Published by Ithaca Chatter, Cornell Campus Club ESL, NY﹞