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3月22日 A Song Before I Leave I have often dreamed
Of a far off place
Where a great warm welcome will be waiting for me
Where the crowds will cheer when they see my face
And a voice keeps saying
This is where I meant to be
I will be there someday
I can go the distance
I don't care how far
Somehow I will be strong
I know every mile
Will be worth my while
I will go almost anywhere to find where I belong
I will beat the odds
I can go the distance
I will face the world
Fearless, proud, and strong
I will please the gods
I can the distance
Till I find my hero's welcome right where I belong 3月1日 March--Quick MARCH!Term started yesterday.
Saw my classmates. Couldn't associate their faces with their names.
Forgotten most of their names anyway.
Lessons began.
Have taken the first exam.
The article for reading comprehension was an European satire on the American society.
It was damn hilarious.
Read it over 6 times, laughed quite noisily every time. Making my deskmate first confused, and then glare at me with fury for interrupting her thoughts.
Was not in the mood to take the test seriously.
Didn't revise. Painted and wrote German on the papers instead.
The teacher had nothing to say to us and let us off an hour earlier than schedule.
It rained quite cats and dogs yesterday. The wind howled. And I very obligingly forgot to bring my umbrella to school.
Wet to the skin.
A pulping lump of misery.
The good thing about being in NJU is that although term formally started yesterday, I sneaked home that very afternoon, having no lessons on this Mar.1st.
Now I am sitting comfortably at home.
But painstakingly trying to cut out 100 or so words from my speech script.
Mr. Butcherman said in his space that it would be unwise to work on the first day of the Chinese New Year, or the person in question would be busy as a bee for the whole year.
When I saw this statement, it was too late.
I was working hard at my script on that jolly day.
Now the curse seemed to be on me.
For March at least, I would be dizzy with engagements.
I shall have to finish the two scripts, do numerous impromptu speeches and Q&As, and stuff as much rubbish as I can into my poor head.
AND, I'll have to squeeze time to resite the whole Computer Science Textbook, having to take the standardized text on the 17th.
They wouldn't let me graduate if I fail that.
I will be in Hong Kong from the 27th to at least the 30th.
The competition will be from the 28th to the 30th.
I have already lost all confidence.
Again I pray those of you who might care a little for me watch over me.
Help me to have the chance of making you proud of knowing me.
Dear Lizzy will be 19 on the 23rd.
Since I am not sure I'll have the time to compose a poem for her this March, I am saying HAPPY BIRTHDAY here and today.
May her guardian angels keep her happy all day.
To Lion Mine: The following poem is selected from one of William Shakespeare's plays. I don't know why, but it struck me as being a perfect description of you. Well, not perfect, for it doesn't do justice to your vivaciousness. Eduard von Bauernfeld had translated it into German. And SCHUBERT had set it to music. It is a pity that I do not know how to post Fritz's version here for you to enjoy. I love the tune, and believe you, having great taste and some particular passion for Schubert, will take delight in it.
I enclose both the English and German version here. Since you are going to take German as your second foreign language, you will be able to appreciate it soon enough.
Change Silvia into Jessica, and consider this an ode to you :)
An Silvia
Was ist Silvia, saget an, Daß sie die weite Flur preist? Schön und zart seh ich sie nahn, Auf Himmelsgunst und Spur weist, Daß ihr alles untertan. Ist sie schön und gut dazu?
Reiz labt wie milde Kindheit; Ihrem Aug' eilt Amor zu, Dort heilt er seine Blindheit Und verweilt in süßer Ruh. Darum Silvia, tön, o Sang,
Der holden Silvia Ehren; Jeden Reiz besiegt sie lang, Den Erde kann gewähren: Kränze ihr und Saitenklang! Who is Silvia?
Who is Silvia? what is she, That all our swains commend her? Holy, fair and wise is she; The heavens such grace did lend her, That she might admiréd be. Is she kind as she is fair?
For beauty lives with kindness. Love doth to her eyes repair, To help him of his blindness, And being helped, inhabits there. Then to Silvia let us sing, That Silvia is excelling; She excels each mortal thing Upon the dull earth dwelling; To her let us garlands bring. |
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