返潮（中英双语） 文及英译：红韵 双语诵读：拉拉拉、朗辰 看到菊花， 体内便亮起一小块东篱； 逢到重阳， 山自己把肩抬高一截。 念起长江、黄河， 它们便漂洋过海 在我的掌纹里 重新找到河床。 十月的第一个清晨， 脑海里的故土，开始返潮。 一片枫叶落下来， 另一种红倏地醒了： 它曾在童年的天空升起， 在课本的第一页， 在每年这一天的清晨， 一面迎风展开的旗帜。 我又一次爱上这副身体—— 两种语言在血脉里穿行， 两个大陆朝相反的方向 轻轻一扯， 仍被这十月的秋气 一点一点，浸得温润。 我庆幸这贴着地面飞行的灵魂： 认得枫叶落下的轨迹， 也认得稻穗弯腰的弧度。 海鸥飞过窗外。 一个像极了故乡方言的音节掉下来， 整个中国在心里 动了一下。 太平洋，窄了一寸。 The Return of the Tide By Hongyun At the sight of chrysanthemums, a small patch by the eastern hedge lights up within me. When the Double Ninth arrives, the mountain lifts its shoulders a little higher. At the thought of the Yangtze and the Yellow River, they cross the ocean and find their riverbeds again in the lines of my palm. On the first morning of October, the homeland in my mind begins to turn damp. A maple leaf falls. Another kind of red suddenly wakes— the red that once rose into the sky of my childhood, on the first page of a schoolbook, on the morning of this day each year: a flag unfurling in the wind. Once again, I love this body— two languages coursing through its veins, two continents tugging gently in opposite directions, yet still, little by little, soaked and softened by the October air. I am grateful for this soul that flies close to the ground: it knows the path of a falling maple leaf, and the curve of a rice stalk bowing under its grain. A seagull passes the window. A syllable falls, sounding almost like a dialect from home. All of China stirs once inside my heart. The Pacific narrows by an inch.
