我的一位画家朋友作了一幅题名《年轮》的画，画面上是一棵非凡的大树，被砍断了，只剩紧贴大地的根干，裸露的横剖面上，是一圈圈数不清的年轮。那年轮里渗出殷红的血，它让我听见（或许只有我的灵魂听见了）伐木者的斧子锋利的舌头深深地劈裂声。那棵非凡的大树唱着它的死亡? One of my painter’s friends made a painting titled “The Rings”, an extraordinary big tree on the picture. It was severed, leaving only the roots of the earth dry. On the exposed cross section, it was one Rings endless ring. The red blood exuded in that year’s round, and it made me hear (perhaps only my soul heard) the sharpen tongue of the logger’s ax sharply cleaved. That extraordinary tree singing its death?