月光斑驳的丛林深处,我能否看到时光久远的梦境?隔着黑夜和庄稼的双重遮蔽,我能否看到祖先躬身于泥土的身影?这么多年来,我在纸上追寻祖先的踪影,几乎穷尽想象,一而再,再而三地仿若在此岸等待斯人的归来。我曾因在梦中听到祖父细微的喘息而欣喜若狂。一个逼真的画面是窗外的时光快速地流动,漆黑的夜幕倒成了我内心异动的映像。我屏住呼吸,默默等待,仿佛一不小心就会吓走神灵的眷顾。是时候了,是时候了。我在心中喃喃自语。 Can I see the long-distant dreams in the moonlight mottled jungle? Can I see the ancestors bent over the earth through the double shelter of the night and the crops? For so many years, I have been pursuing ancestors on paper Trace, almost exhaustive imagination, again and again, as if in this shore waiting for the return of Sri Lanka. I was overjoyed by my grandfather’s slight breathing in my dreams. A vivid picture of the window is the time to flow quickly, the dark night poured into my heart moving image. I hold my breath, silently waiting, as if accidentally scared God’s blessing. It is time, it is time. I muttered in my heart.