每層樓有三十五個鳥籠，每座大樓有四十層樓，每處有五百座大樓，城裡有好多處，總共

有好多好多鳥籠。夜了籠裡便逐一點燈。一盞、兩盞、三盞。隔岸望去，一城的鳥籠金光

璀璨。窗外時有飛樹經過，看籠裡的孩子。鳥籠太小，我早便長出太多肉,動不了。終於

有天，我打開籠伸出雙手，飛樹便接走了我。今夜，我踏著飛樹回到故籠，發現附近的小

鳥都變了一頭頭大笨象，一出鳥籠便趕忙塞進升降機裡。

 

 

FLYING TREE

 

Every story has thirty-five birdcages, every tenement has forty stories, every place has five hun-
dred tenements, and the city has many places, so altogether it has many, many birdcages. In the

evenings, the cages are lit: one bowl of light, another bowl, a third bowl. The golden caged lights

of the city are resplendent when seen from ashore. From time to time, flying trees stop by the

windows to see the children within. The cages are very small; when I was little I became so big

that I could no longer move inside. Then one day I opened the cage, opened my hands, and was

picked up by a flying tree. Tonight, I rode back to my old cage on a flying tree, to discover that

all the small birds here have grown into bumble-elephants. They jostle out of their cages, then

cram into elevators.