"Can you play us a song?" the farmer asked. I looked at the fat man and then at the small farm near the town. My was gone. I could not sing. The sun rose fast, and the air smelled of salt and fish. My father’s words came back. "Music is your ," he said. But my heart wanted to rest.
“能给我们唱首歌吗？”农夫问道。 我看了看那个胖男人，又看了看港口镇附近那个小农场。 我的嗓子已经哑了。 我唱不了歌。 太阳迅速升起，空气中弥漫着海盐和鱼的味道。 父亲的话又回响起来。 “音乐是你的责任，”他说。 但我的心却想休息。
I took my old . The farmer smiled and sat near the fence. "Play fast or slow," he said, "but please play." I played , empty sounds. I thought about the farm and the fat man’s eyes. The town with light and sound. I felt my and my duty fight inside me.
我拿起我旧吉他。 农夫笑了笑，坐在木栅栏边。 “弹快点或慢点，”他说，“但请你弹吧。” 我弹奏出轻柔、空灵的音符。 我想着那个农场，还有那个胖男人温暖的眼神。 小镇随着光线和声音苏醒过来。 我感到自己的欲望和责任在我内心挣扎。
At last, I stopped and looked at the dawn. The farmer clapped, happy. "Your music is strong," he said. I smiled, feeling hope. I could not sing, but I could still give joy. The town was waking, and so was I. Maybe one day, my voice would come back fast and clear, like the morning sun.
终于，我停了下来，望着黎明。 农夫高兴地鼓起掌来。 “你的音乐很有力量，”他说。 我笑了笑，心中充满了希望。 我虽然不能唱歌，但我仍然能带给人们快乐。 小镇正在苏醒，我也是。 也许有一天，我的嗓音会像晨光一样，迅速而清晰地回来。
