Humans do not see trees. They walk by us every day. They sit and sleep, smoke and picnic and secretly kiss in our shade.
人類通常當樹係空氣, 每日佢地都會行過我哋身邊。 佢地係我哋嘅身影下, 坐低休息、訓教、 野餐、偷偷錫嘴。
They pluck our leaves and gorge on our fruits. They break our branches or carve their lover's name on our trunks with their blades and vow eternal love. They weave necklaces out of our needles and paint our flowers into art. They split us into logs to heat their homes, and sometimes they chop us down just because they think we obstruct their view.
佢哋掹我哋啲葉, 貪圖我哋結嘅果實。 佢地折斷我哋嘅樹枝, 用刀將愛人嘅名刻喺樹幹上面, 以此為愛起誓。 佢哋用我哋嘅針葉織頸鏈, 將我哋嘅花,畫成藝術。 佢地將我哋砍成木柴 為佢哋屋企保暖, 有時甚至鋸斷我哋 齋喺因為佢哋覺得 我哋擋住咗佢哋嘅風景。
They make cradles, wine corks, chewing gum, rustic furniture and produce the most beautiful music out of us. And they turn us into books in which they bury themselves on cold winter nights. They use our wood to manufacture coffins in which they end their lives. And they even compose the most romantic poems for us, claiming we're the link between earth and sky. And yet, they do not see us.
佢哋用我哋去造搖籃、 酒塞、香口膠、鄉風傢私, 用我哋, 演奏出最美好嘅音樂。 佢地仲將我哋變成書, 喺寒冷嘅冬夜 攞嚟冚住自己保暖。 佢哋用我哋啲木頭 打造自己生命終結時會去嘅地方,棺材。 佢哋甚至會為我哋 作出最浪漫嘅詩, 話我哋係天空同大地之間嘅橋樑。 但係,佢哋眼中始終無我哋。
So one of the many beauties of the art of storytelling is to imagine yourself inside someone else's voice. But as writers, as much as we love stories and words, I believe we must also be interested in silences: the things we cannot talk about easily in our societies, the marginalized, the disempowered.
咁呢,講故仔,其中一件優美清雅嘅事, 就係將自己想象成其他人。 但作為一個作家, 就算我哋再鐘情於文字同故事, 我諗我哋都要關注 嗰啲被隱去聲音嘅事物。 嗰啲社會中我哋無辦法隨便提起嘅事、 嗰啲被排斥、被剝削嘅人、事、物。
In that sense, literature can, and hopefully does, bring the periphery to the center, make the invisible a bit more visible, make the unheard a bit more heard, and empathy and understanding speak louder than demagoguery and apathy. Stories bring us together. Untold stories and entrenched silences keep us apart.
喺依方面,我衷心希望,通過文學, 擴展大家嘅目光, 關注扶持邊緣群體, 開始睇到,之前無發現嘅事, 開始去聽,之前聽唔到嘅聲音, 心裡面滋生同情同理解, 而唔喺冷漠同偏激。 敢於訴說、願意傾聽, 會令我哋心連心。 冷漠無視、三緘其口嘅態度, 會令人與人之間越嚟越遠。
But how to tell the stories of humanity and nature at a time when our planet is burning and there is no precedent for what we're about to experience collectively whether it's political, social or ecological? But tell we must because if there's one thing that is destroying our world more than anything, it is numbness. When people become disconnected, desensitized, indifferent, when they stop listening, when they stop learning and when they stop caring about what's happening here, there and everywhere.
地球,正處係水深火熱之間, 我哋要點係咁嘅時代, 去訴說人同大自然嘅故事呢? 我哋即將要經歷嘅事並無前例, 唔知到底算係政治、 社會、定生態問題呢? 但我哋必須要企出嚟。 因為如果世界上係有一樣嘢, 佢有最強嘅破壞力, 摧毀緊我哋嘅世界, 嗰樣嘢肯定就係麻木。 當大家變得麻木不仁、漠不關心。 當大家唔再去傾聽, 唔再去了解。 當大家唔再在乎 身邊、世界發生嘅事。
We measure time differently, trees and humans. Human time is linear -- a neat continuum stretching from a past that is deemed to be over and done with towards the future that is supposed to be pristine, untouched. Tree time is circular. Both the past and the future breathe within the present moment. And the present does not move in one direction. Instead it draws circles within circles, like the rings you would find when you cut us down.
我哋同樹木計算時間嘅方式唔同。 對人類嚟講,時間就似係條直線, 簡單直接、不斷延續。 人類認為時間嘅起點喺過去某個歷史, 會一直邁向,照計係全新、完整嘅未來。 但樹嘅時間喺循環嘅。 佢地唔分過去未來, 呼吸當下嘅氧氣,就係佢哋嘅永恆。 樹嘅每一日, 亦唔係一直前進, 而喺一直循環、再循環。 就好似你鋸開我哋 睇到嘅嗰啲年輪。
Next time you walk by a tree, try to slow down and listen because each of us whispers in the wind. Look at us. We're older than you and your kind. Listen to what we have to tell, because hidden inside our story is the past and the future of humanity.
你下次行過一棵樹個陣, 不如停低,仔細去聽, 我哋嗰個都係輕風中細語。 正視我哋。 我哋比你,你嘅物種 歷史更加悠久。 用心去聽我哋要講嘅嘢, 因為人類嘅過去同未來, 都蘊藏係我哋嘅故事裡面。