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THE TALE OF THREE TURTLES
塘龟，旱龟与海龟的故事

- A Story for Children -
一个童话

By Kai Chen 陈凯 (Written 4/20/1993, Reprint 4/20/2011 www.kaichenblog.blogspot.com )

陳凱 著（写于九三年四月二十日，自译中文再版 2011年4月20日 www.kaichenblog.blogspot.com ）

很久很久以前，三只小乌龜出生在一個沼澤地里。

这三只小乌龜都有一個閃亮的綠色外殼。 他们的柔軟的小腦袋上都有一雙明亮的小眼睛。 一個尖尖的小尾巴拖在他们每一个的身后。 每天他們的父母給他們帶來食物，并在有危险时保護他們。 他们的父母也教他們了解在世界中的事物。小乌龜们從來沒有擔心过什麼。

一只小乌龜的外殼上有一個黑记，所以父母給他起名叫小斑点。 一只小乌龟喜歡扭动他的尾巴，所以父母給他起名叫小蠕尾。 一只小乌龟有一個非常堅硬的外殼和超龟的勇敢。 有一次，他失足從懸崖上摔下来，摔的很重。 但他咬著嘴唇，一颗眼泪也没掉。 所以父母給他取名叫小勇士。

不幸的是，他們居住的沼澤地里充滿了让乌龟们厌恶恐惧的東西。 腐爛的樹枝，樹葉和毒蘑菇無處不在。 成群结队的咬乌龟的蚊蟲每时每地盘旋在他们的脑袋上。 傳染性的龟病到处肆虐。 各种寄生蟲在泥濘中爬行窥测。 更不要说那些食乌龟的動物像蛇和鱷魚满塘皆是。 他們的食物，幾乎全都是綠色的藻類青苔。 他們真是厭倦了那些没味儿的食物。 更要命的是沒有乾淨的水喝。 他們只能飲用沼泽地里的臭水霉水。 在潮濕的沼澤和肮脏的泥濘中，小乌龟们的身上開始发霉长毛。 那腐霉越长越多，越长越厚。

小乌龟们出生不久後，他们的父母死了。 母親被鱷魚吃掉了。 父親死於一种可怕的傳染性龟病。

三只小乌龜很傷心，对自己的未来很不确定，并由此非常恐惧害怕。 從此之後，他們不得不自己出去尋找食物，照看自己的安全，取得他们自己的舒適和快樂。 在这个冷漠无情的沼泽地中，他们勉强挣扎着维持他们的存活。

.... 隨著時間的流逝，三只小乌龜漸漸長大。 但他們仍旧住在發霉的沼澤地中。 他們仍旧吃着无味的藻類青苔，喝着腐臭的髒水。 他們仍旧躡手躡腳地躲逃着那些危險的食龟動物。 他们仍旧每时每刻擔心他們可能会感染上那殺死了他們的父親的疾病。 他們 越来越对他们自身的前景倍感担忧与无望。

… 每年春天，鳥兒们從海洋那边飞过沼泽地。 有的鸟儿们会停留歇息。 他們都有長長的脖子和長长的嘴。 他們奔跑在池塘的周围尋找着昆蟲和小魚吃。 他們筑了自己的巢并產下了卵孵小鸟儿。 他們高声地啼叫着，仿佛总是愉快地歌唱着生活的乐趣与美好。

小乌龜们越來越对鸟儿们的生活状态好奇。 他們越来越被鸟儿们的快乐吸引。 他们想知道沼泽地外面的世界。 他们开始对鸟儿们询问他们想知道的事儿。

這些鳥儿们总是告訴他們有關海洋的讯息，因为他們就是來自那里的。 他們告訴小乌龟们說，海洋是如此之大，沒有谁能達到它的邊緣，即使是飞鸟。 他們告訴小乌龟们说海浪是如此之高，即使是沼泽地里最高的樹丛也無法与之比擬。 他們告訴小乌龟们说在海洋里有鯨和鯊魚。 他們是如此之庞大，只要一個就可以填滿整個池塘。 他們告訴小乌龟们说在海洋里与海滩上有五顏六色的貝殼和价值无比的珍珠。 他們还告訴小乌龟们说有龐大无比的船只在海洋上航行、、、。

小斑点聽了那些故事，耸耸他的鼻子，笑了：

“這些鳥儿们只是在吹噓胡扯。 他们把海洋讲得那么玄就是想讓我們嫉妒他们，就是想貶低我們。 母親和父親活着的时候就一直告戒我说這沼澤地是我們乌龜们生活的唯一去处。 我們的祖父母们就生在这里也死在这里。 我不相信這些長脖子长嘴，全身长着羽毛的丑八怪似的魔鬼们。 再说，這是我們龟们的沼泽地。 這是乌龜的地方。 我生是沼泽地的塘龟，死是沼泽地的塘龟，就像我的父母与祖父母们一样。 再说，生活在哪儿还不都是一样。 生活的定义就是學習如何生存活着。 生活就是要去学会如何忍受煎熬痛苦和如何打發時間。 母親和父親就是这么说的。”

小蠕尾聽了鸟儿们的故事。 他感到很困惑。 他拿不定主意：

“父親和母親總是告訴我們除了乌龟之外不要相信任何其他的生物。 但似乎鳥兒们的生活的确比我們乌龟们的生活快乐自在。 他們能飛得那么远，吃上那么多好吃的，每天都能喝干淨水。 他们甚至还跳舞、唱歌享受生活的乐趣。 一定是那海洋给了他們力量与精神使他们能那么自由自在地生活。 我真是厭倦了这渾濁，污臭，發霉，有毒的沼澤地。 我真想赶快離開這裡。”

小勇士聽了鸟儿们的故事。 他的眼睛开始炯炯發光。 他的思緒飛到了那遥远的、陌生的但迷人的地方。 他夢想着有一天他會像鳥兒们在天空飞翔一样，無憂無慮地在廣袤的大海中畅游，探索那無尽的珍寶，了解那些他从没见过的新奇的生物并与之对话沟通。

“我不想像其他乌龟们一样生活。 我不想像我的父母一样生死在痛苦与默默的絕望之中。 我要更自由的生活、更充實的生活、更快樂的生活。 我要属于我自己的生活。 有一天我會像所有的生物一样，也会死去的。 但是，當我瞑目的时候，我希望我能夠對自己說：'我度過了一个美好充实的一生。 我是我生活的主人；我是我命运的船长。 我的一生沒有什麼好後悔的’。 ”

於是有一天，小蠕尾和小勇士決定離開沼澤地。 小斑点没有同行。

… 小蠕尾和小勇士执著地艰难地爬出了沼泽地。 他们载着他们閃亮的綠色背殼。 他們尖尖的尾巴拖在地面上。 他們爬呀爬呀。 他們向那太陽每天都會升起的方向爬去。 他們向那鸟儿们飞来的方向爬去。 他們向那海风吹来的方向爬去。 他們爬呀爬呀。 他們爬過小山和丘陵。 他們爬過沙漠和草原。 他們爬過湍急的河流。 他們爬呀爬呀。 他们没日没夜地爬。 他们穿過暴雨、狂风和熱浪。 他們爬呀爬。

他們的腳掌布滿了水泡，他們的腳趾不停地流着血。 他們的背殼上集满了灰尘与污垢。 光滑的龟壳上充滿了被岩石沙砾划刻的印痕。 他們柔軟的頭布满了伤疤。 他們的尾巴下面也长出了厚厚的茧子。 然而，他們繼續向前不停地爬着。

在小蠕尾的心中脑中，那沼澤地的恶臭、无聊与危险记忆犹新。 他最受不了的就是那另龟窒息的气候与环境。 他討厭那些他不得不吃的平淡無味的食物。 他憎恨那些无时无刻不骚扰他的嗜血的昆虫。 他害怕那些他不得不小心躲避的食龟兽。 他希望找到一個最理想的地方-- 在那儿他不必活得那麼辛苦那么累；在那儿他不用花太多的精力；在那儿他能是绝对的安全；在那儿他可以丢掉所有生活的負擔与责任。 他盼望着這個嚴酷的旅途快一点儿终结。

在小勇士的心中脑中，他似乎已经看到了鸟儿们告诉他的那些五彩缤纷的貝殼。 他似乎已经看到了巨大的鯨和海象在海洋中游泳戏耍。 他似乎已经看到了自己在斑斓的珊瑚礁和五顏六色的魚群中穿梭往返，採集着大自然的美麗和壯觀。 他真的著迷鳥兒们告訴他的一切 -- 那浩瀚神秘的海洋。 然而，他知道他必須付出努力去學習如何生活在海洋中。 他有信心。 他有堅強的意志。 他並不害怕。 他知道他必須追逐自己的夢想。 他的那些夢想有一天终會成真。 他很高興他正在努力使他的夢想成為現實。 每當他想起了他的夢想，他就會忘了他身上的傷疤、疲劳与创痛。 他爬得更快更稳。

… 當在樹上的葉子開始发黄落下，當风中腥咸的氣味越来越浓，當他们腳底下的土有越来越多的沙粒，小蠕尾和小勇士終於聽到了海浪的聲音。

小蠕尾感到震驚。 他從來沒有聽到过那么震耳欲聋的声响。 如此震撼，如此可怕，如此勢不可擋！ 即使是鱷魚的咆哮也无法与此比拟。

小勇士则興奮无比。 他終於到達了他的目的地！ 汹涌的海浪雷鳴般的咆哮，就像吹响了一個巨大的號角，召唤他爬得更快，召唤他冲入那神秘叵测的海洋，探索那有着无限魅力的未知。

… 當他們終於爬到了海灘上的时候，他们看到像小山一般的波浪從水与天的缝隙中层层向他们滚来。 那海潮吼叫着，翻腾着，狂暴地衝擊着海岸。 那银白色的泡沫与沙硕被夾在翡翠般的波涛中，被一种无名无形的强力暴虐地抛击在褐色的礁石上，粉身碎骨地被撞散成大片的云雾。

小蠕尾打了一個寒顫：

“那些海鸟儿们從來沒有告訴我海洋是這个樣子，这麼狂暴，这么无情，这么无法讨人喜欢。”

他小心翼翼地爬到了海水边，把他的腳趾頭浸入水中。 海水是冰冷的。 然後，他伸出了柔軟的头泯了一口海水。 呀！ 那么苦，那么咸！

“那些该死的海鸟儿们。 他们從來沒有告訴我海洋是這樣儿 -- 这么冷漠无情，这么苦涩难容，这么咸不入口。”

一個巨大的浪潮猛然向他袭来。 他想跑开，但已經來不及了。 他被咸涩带沙的波浪打翻在地。 他慌了。

他叫着、喊着、哀嚎着。 他哭了。 他拼力摆平了自己，没命地从海浪中脱逃了出来。 他逃離了大海，就像兔子逃避狼的追捕一样。 他快步朝着与海相反的方向爬去，向着山地和丘陵，沙漠和草原爬去，向着那他想逃离的發霉骯髒的沼澤地爬去，向着他的出生地与祖地爬去。

“回來！小蠕尾。 這儿多雄伟，多好，多有趣儿啊！” 小勇士喊道。

小蠕尾繼續快步向后爬着。 他假裝沒有聽見。

小蠕尾爬着爬着，然后他突然意識到，沼澤地也不是什么好地方。 單單想到了霉菌，寄生蟲，疾病和天敵就使他胆寒发抖。 但他想去哪裡呢？ 回到沼泽地去见小斑点太丢脸了。 小斑点会说：“怎么样？！ 我早知道吧。”

“小斑点會嘲笑我對我的生活作出的所有決定。 是我自己要去找大海的。 现在我自己又反悔了。 我怎麼去面對他？”

再回头去爬向大海？ 也不行。 那海洋太无情，太恐怖了。

“小勇士會看不起我，認為我是一個懦夫的。 我怎麼去面對他？”

小蠕尾就这样在犹疑不定中徘徊在海洋和沼澤地之间。 他也并不喜歡这儿。 在这旱地上太陽晒得真猛。 風刮的太烈。 地上太多沙石。 食物太稀少。 又沒有足夠的水。 真是诅咒啊！ 他真的不知道该到哪儿去。

… 沙漠的沙磨厚了小蠕尾的背殼。 風和太陽吹干了曬乾了他的鱗片。 岩石和沙土磨利了他的爪子。 他的脖子越伸越长，因為他必須不斷地找水找食。 他变成了一只旱龟。

… 當小勇士看到像透明的翡翠山峦一样的海潮向他劈头盖脸地扑来的时候，他的心被激情的喜悅震颤了。 他終於走進了这一望無際的海洋。 他終於可以享受那对無限未知的尽情的探索。 他终于可以自由地漫游漫遊、品味大自然所创造的所有的美麗与神奇。

小勇士没有害怕。 他沒有将他的脖子缩到他的背殼里面来。 他面對着那汹涌暴虐的海洋，面对着那无尽的未知与宝藏。 他感到欣慰。 他感到自豪与骄傲。 他满怀喜悅和快樂去迎接那前所未有的挑戰。 他感到了自己的力量与意志在主宰着他自身的命運。

他向海洋的最深处猛冲过去，拼力扑蹬着他已經疲憊的双臂双腿。 带盐的海水刺痛了他的眼睛。 他的身體被冻的打颤发僵。 他的身体的运动越来越不穩定。 他有点儿晕眩。 但他毫不犹豫，毫不动摇，一直向大海的深处游去。

… 他看到了鰻魚，鯊魚，鯨与海豚。 他聽到了海豹，海象，海獅的吼叫。 他採集品尝到了海藻、蝦、蟹、海参、、。 他永不停息地去走向那無尽的探索与询问。

… 他在海中的暖潮中游过。 他在金色的沙灘上歇息过。 他爬上过北极海中的冰山。 他探索过赤道海底的火山。 他在溫暖的陽光下与柔和的海風中与海鸟儿们交谈、、、。

他的眼睛逐漸適應了咸海水的侵蚀。 他的外殼變得光滑而有光澤。 他的腿与臂变得又平又阔。 他的四肢变得像扇子和桨一样，帮助他游得更快更稳。 他的尾巴變得更加靈活有力。 他可以比其他海洋生物游得更远。 他变成了一只海龜。

.... 年复一年，海鳥儿们飛越大海，飞越干燥的沙漠丘陵，進入沼澤地。

小斑点从鸟儿们那里聽到过許多有關小蠕尾和小勇士的故事。 他聽說他們不能适应不同的氣候而水土不服。 他听说他们不习惯不同的飲食。 他听说他们被当地那些可怕的恶霸强盗们欺负、虐待、歧視。 他听说他们的生活与命运是悲不可言的。

小斑点对他自己的孩子们嘆了口氣，一边抓挠着蚊虫在他头上咬的红斑：

“你看，孩子们。 小蠕尾和小勇士本来應該聽我們祖先的话。 他們本不應該離開這片沼澤地的。 你们都见过小蠕尾叔叔。 他现在得忍受那么多不幸与痛苦。 他已經变得那么丑陋不堪。 但至少我有时候还可以从远处看到他。 至于小勇士，我甚至不知道他现在在哪儿。 他可能已經死了，被鯊魚吃掉了，冻死在冰块儿里了，或病死了餓死了。 谁知道？ 也許他还活着，只是没脸见我而羞于回来了。 你们可千万别异想天开地去走他们所走的路，犯他们所犯的错。”

他说完这些话后，感到很宽心，很满足。 选择了让祖先的智慧为他选择是太对了。 留在沼澤地里度过一生是最正確明智的选择。 至少他知道他自己是他祖先的好后代。 他抿着嘴笑了，感到说不出的驕傲与快樂，甚至感到高龟一等。

… 幾個月後，小斑点死了。 他死於他一直害怕的那种龟死病。 就像他的父親一样，所有常饮沼泽地中的污水、霉水、臭水的龟们都逃不脱这种龟死病。 他的屍體在泥濘中沉沒下去，无影无踪，就像所有的龟们一样。 昆蟲，蝇蛹和霉菌很快聚集在他的尸体周围。 他的外殼逐漸腐爛，逐渐被蠶食。 最后什麼都沒有留下。 他消失在虚无中了。

“那小蠕尾和小勇士呢？ 他們在哪儿？ 他们生活的如何？ 他们的结局也像小斑点一样吗？ 什么也没有留下吗？” 你可能會問。

當然啦， 像每一只烏龜一样，像所有在這個世界上的每一个生物一样，他們也有生命的终结。

小蠕尾在沙丘上寻食的时候被部落里的人打死了。 他的外殼一开始被人製作成一個碗用来储水饮水。 後來，他的外殼被人用旧了，用碎了，最后被遺棄在沙漠里。 它逐渐化为灰粉，漂浮在荒漠的微风中。 在那微风中，你仍旧可以闻到小蠕尾的恐惧。

小勇士也死了。 他是在攀登一艘遠洋巨輪的时候出了事的。 巨轮上的強大的螺旋槳打碎了他的龟体。 他的外殼被打破成碎片，散落在海中。

… 你在海滩上散步休闲的时候，如果你留心观察你脚下的沙砾，你依然可以看到小勇士外殼的碎片。 它们是淡綠色的，光滑闪亮，透着美与勇气的辉泽。 它們播撒在五彩繽紛的貝殼中，播撒在世界各地的海滩上。 在金色陽光的照耀下，它们反射着耀眼的光，豐富着世界上那些无尽的奧秘，柔声细语地传扬着那些無休止的童話故事和民間傳說。

THE TALE OF THREE TURTLES
塘龟，旱龟与海龟的故事

- A Story for Children -
一个童话

By Kai Chen 陈凯 (Written 4/20/1993, Reprint 4/20/2001)

A long, long time ago, three baby turtles were born in a swamp.

Each of the three little turtles had a shiny green shell, a pair of bright eyes on his soft tiny head, four feet layered with scales and a pointy tail attached to his behind. Their parents loved them very much and played with them often. Sometimes the little turtles took a swim under their parents’ bellies. Sometimes they crawled on their parents’ backs for a ride. Every day their parents brought them food, protected them from outside peril and taught them to understand things in their world. The little turtles never had to worry about anything.

One of the little turtles had a dark spot on his shell, so the parents named him Spotty. One of them liked to wriggle his tail a lot, so the parents named him Wriggly. The third on had an extremely hard shell. Once he fell from a cliff, he bit his lips and didn’t even shed a tear. The parents’ named him Toughie.

Unfortunately, the swamp where they lived was full of things they didn’t like. There were rotten branches and leaves and poisonous mushrooms everywhere. There were hordes upon hordes of irritating insects. There were infectious diseases. There were parasitic worms crawling in the mud. There were dangerous predators like snakes and crocodiles. There weren’t too many things to eat. Their food was almost always green algae. They were tired of it. There was no clean water to drink either. They could only drink from moldy ponds and even then they had to first make sure that the water was not poisonous. The swamp was damp and muddy. Mildew started to grow everywhere inside their shells, behind their necks, between their toes.

Not long after they were born, their parents died. Their mother was eaten by a crocodile. Their father died of an infectious disease of the swamp.

The three little turtles were very sad, very uncertain, and very afraid. From then on they had to look for their own food, for security, for comfort and for happiness. They struggled hard in the beginning just to survive. But after a while they got used to it and managed to get by on their own in the cheerless and precarious environment.

..... As time passed, the three little turtles gradually grew up. But they still lived in the moldy swamp. They still ate the bland algae and drank the dirty water. They still tiptoed among the dangerous predators and worried that they might catch the disease that had killed their father. They grew more and more dissatisfied and bored with what they ate and drank, more and more tired with the way they lived, more and more anxious about their own future.

Every spring, birds came from the ocean. They all had long necks and long beaks. They danced around the ponds and whooped through the bushes, looking for insects and small fish to eat. They built their nests to hatch their eggs. They sang with their high-pitched voices.

The little turtles were more and more curious about the birds. They were drawn closer to the birds and asked questions about their lives, seeking information about the outside world.

The birds mostly told them about the ocean where they came from. They told them that the ocean was so big that no one could reach the edge of it. They told them that the waves were so high that even the tallest trees in the swamp couldn’t compare. They told them that there were whales and sharks in the ocean. They were so big that one of them could fill up an entire pond. They told them about the colorful shells and pearls lying on the beaches and on the bottom of the ocean. They told them about the huge boats sailing on the ocean.

Spotty listened to the stories. He laughed through his nose:

“These birds are just bragging about the ocean to make us jealous and to belittle us. Turtles don’t have wings and cannot fly so there is no way for us to prove if what they said is true. Mother and Father told me long time ago that this swampland was the only place for us turtles to live. Our grandparents lived their lives here. I don’t believe these long-necked, lone-beaked, feathered devils. Besides, this is our land. This is the land of turtles. Without it, I wouldn’t be here. I am going to live and die just like my parents. This is the turtles’ way of life. Life is same everywhere. Life is about learning how to survive, how to endure misery and how to pass time. Mother and Father always told us so.”

Wriggly listened to the stories. He was confused. He became unsure of himself:

“Father and Mother always told us not to believe any creatures except turtles. But it seems that birds do live a better life than us turtles. They can fly afar, eat better meals, drink cleaner water, even dance and sing to enjoy themselves. It must be the ocean that gives them the strength to do what they are doing. We turtles can’t fly like the birds. It must be this dirty swamp that has disabled us turtles. I am sick and tired of the muddy, moldy, poisonous swamp. I’ve got to get out of here.”

Toughie listened to the stories. His eyes sparkled. His thoughts flew far away to those strange and fascinating places. He dreamed that one day he would be just like the birds, carefree, swimming in the vast ocean, exploring countless treasures, understanding and communicating with those strange creatures he had never seen before.

“I don’t want to live a life like all the other turtles. I don’t want to end up like my parents - living in desperation and dying in misery and pain. I want to live a freer life, a more fulfilled life, a joyful life, a life of my own. One day I will die. But when I die, I want to be able to say to myself: ‘I have lived a good life. I have lived my life and haven’t let my life live me. I have nothing to regret about my life’. I’ve got to do something to find meaning in my life.”

So one day, Wriggly and Toughie decided to leave the swampland. Spotty remained.

They crawled with their feet, carrying their shiny green shells on their backs, their pointy tails dragging behind on the ground. They crawled. They crawled toward where the sun rises every day. They crawled toward where the birds came from. They crawled toward where the briny winds blew. They crawled. They crawled over the mountains and hills. They crawled over the deserts and grasslands. They crawled through treacherous rivers. They crawled day and night, through storm and heat wave. They crawled.

Their feet were full of blisters and their toes bled. Their shells were dusty, full of scratches from rocks and stones. Their soft heads were dotted with scars. Their tails had callous. Yet they kept going.

In Wriggly’s mind, he kept seeing the swampland he had lived in all those years. He hated the damp stagnant climate. He hated the dull tasteless food he had to eat. He hated the insects that bothered him all the time. He hated the predators from whom he had to constantly hide. He hoped to find a better place where he didn’t have to work so hard to survive, where he could eat better food whenever he wanted without much effort, where he could be safe, where he never had to look after himself, where he could be relieved the burden of life he had carried for so long. He wished this ordeal of traveling would end soon.

In Toughie’s mind, he kept seeing the rainbow of colors from the seashells the birds had told him about. He kept seeing the giant whales and walruses swimming in the ocean. He kept seeing himself swimming among the coral reefs and schools of colorful fish, sampling to the fullest extent the beauty and grandeur of nature, tasting many varieties delicious food. He was mesmerized when the birds told him about the immensity and mystery of the ocean. Yet, he knew he had to work hard to learn how to live in the ocean. He had confidence. He had a strong will. He was not afraid. He knew he had to chase after his own dreams and one day those dreams would come true. He was happy that he was finally doing something to make his dream a reality. Every time he thought about his dreams, he would forget about the scars on his body and he crawled even steadier and faster.

When the leaves on the trees started to drop, when the salty smell from the winds grew heavier, when the soil under their feet became sandier, Wriggly and Toughie finally heard the sound of the waves.

Wriggly was shocked. He had never heard anything like it. So loud and frightening and overwhelming! Not even the roar of crocodiles could compare.

Toughie was excited. He had finally reached his destination! The thunderous sound of roaring waves was like a giant bugle, calling him to crawl faster into the mysterious deep water and the violent embrace of the unknown.

When they finally reached the beach, they saw mountain-like waves coming layer upon layer from a body of water expanding endless toward the sky. The tide whirled and seethes, pounding the shore with tremendous force. The brothy foam, with the sand sandwiched between the waves, tossed an turned, like the clouds they had seen before in a storm.

Wriggly’s guts shuddered:

“The seabirds never told me that the ocean was like this, so violent, so inhospitable, so unfeeling.”

He then crawled gingerly by the water and dipped his toes in it. The water was freezing cold. He then extended his soft head toward the water and sipped a little. It was bitter and salty.

“The seabirds never told me that the ocean was like this, so very cold, so very bitter, so very salty.”

A giant tidal wave surged toward him. He wanted to run, but he was too late. He was immersed by the sand-tossing salty water. He felt the relentless power of nature. He panicked.

He shouted. He cried. He struggled to exert all his strength to get away from the water. He fled the ocean like a rabbit escaping from a coyote. He crawled fast back toward where he came from, toward the mountains and hills, toward the deserts and grasslands, toward the dirty moldy swamp where he was born.

“Come back! Wriggly. This is great!” Toughie was shouting.

Wriggly kept going, pretending that he didn’t hear.

But on his way back to the swamp, Wriggly suddenly realized that the swamp was not that enticing either. The mere thought of the mildew, the parasites, the diseases and the predators made him shiver. But where would he go?

It was too shameful to go back to the swamp, to go back to Spotty.

“Spotty will mock me all my life about the decision I made to go to the ocean. How am I ever going to face him?”

It was also too shameful to go back toward the ocean again.

“Toughie will look down on me and think I am a coward. How am I ever going to face him?”

Wriggly spent the rest of his life wandering between the ocean and the swamp, hesitating to go either way. He didn’t like the dry land either. The sun was too hot. The wind was too fierce. The ground was too rough. Food was too scarce. There wasn’t enough water anywhere.

The desert sand thickened his shell. The wind and sun dried his scales. The rocks and stones sharpened his claws. His neck stretched out before him because he had to constantly look for water. He became a dry land tortoise.

When Toughie saw the tidal wave pelting down from above like a mountain of transparent jade, his heart trembled with joy. He had finally stepped into the limitless ocean. He could finally enjoy exploring the infinite unknown. He could finally swim freely and roam through all the beauty that nature could possibly create.

He didn’t flee. He didn’t pull his neck back into his shell. He faced it - the ruthless force of the ocean. He praised it - the limitlessness of the treasures. He welcomed it - the joy and pleasure and the unprecedented challenge to un-tap them. He was proud of his own power over his fate. He was elated.

He dashed toward the deepest parts of the ocean, peddling frantically with his already tired feet, balancing himself with his delicate tail. The salt in the water hurt his eyes. His body was numbed by the cold. His motion grew precarious. But he kept going toward the deep.

He saw eels, sharks, whales. He heard seals, walruses, sea lions. He sampled seaweeds, shrimps and sea slugs. He kept going toward the infinite.

He swam in warm currents and rested on golden sandy beaches. He climbed icebergs. He explored underwater volcanoes. He took naps in the warm sun under the ocean breeze. He kept going toward the limitless.

His eyes gradually adjusted to the salty water. His shell became smooth and shiny. His feet grew flatter and larger. His toes grew smaller and duller. His tail became more agile. He could swim longer and smoother than other ocean creatures. He became a sea turtle.

He saw someone similar to himself in the ocean - a female turtle. They danced and played together and nested on the warm sand of the shore. They had many babies. They all spread around the enormous ocean.

..... Seabirds flew over the sea, above the dry land and into the swamp, year in and year out. The tree branches turned from green to yellow, and then green again.

Spotty heard many stories about Wriggly and Toughie. He heard they were uncomfortable with the different climate, disgusted with the change of diet, chased and hurt by formidable predators, discriminated against by other creatures.

Spotty sighed to his own children, scratching a mosquito bite on his head:

“Look. Wriggly and Toughie should have listened to our ancestors. They should not have left this swamp. See, how much hardship Wriggly has had to endure. He has become to ugly and unhappy because he made the wrong choice in the first place. But at least I can see him sometimes when he travels to the edge of the swamp. I don’t even know where Toughie is now. He may have already died, eaten by sharks, frozen or starved to death. Or perhaps he is too sick and to ashamed to return. Don’t you ever do what they did.”

After he spoke those words, he felt relieved, assured that the choice he had made to remain in the swamp was right. At least he knew who he was. He laughed, feeling a sense of pride and pleasure, even superiority.

A few months later, though, he died. He died of a disease he had always dreaded, caused by drinking rotten water, just like his father. His dead body sank in the mud. Insects, worms and mildew started to gather inside the shell. The shell gradually rotted and was eaten away. Nothing was left.

“What about Wriggly and Toughie? Where are they? How are they doing? Did they die like Spotty?” You may ask.

Sure. Like every turtle, like every creature in this world, they also died one day.

Wriggly was killed by a human. His shell was first made into a bowl by the humans to drink water from. Later, it was abandoned and crushed. It became dust floating in the air above the dry land.

Toughie was killed while he was climbing a giant motor-powered ocean liner. The ship’s powerful propeller smashed him. His shell was shattered into pieces, scattered around the ocean.

If you go to the beach sometimes and take a careful look around, you may still see the pieces of his shell - green, smooth, translucently shiny. They were sprinkled among colorful seashells all over the world, radiating under the golden sun, enriching the world with their deep mysteries and never-ending fairytales and folklores.

鹰与鸡
Eagle and Chicken

献给我的爱 – 人的自由之灵
To My Love – the Spirit of Human Freedom

“自由人”对抗“中国人”序列
“Free Beings” vs. “Chinese” Series

By Kai Chen 陈凯 3/22/2011 www.kaichenblog.blogspot.com

从没有人知道是谁把一只鹰卵放到了鸡巢里的。

当稚鹰被孵化出来的时候，她在蹦蹦跳跳的稚鸡群中艰难地移动中，勉强获取她生命的必需。 与其他稚鸡不同，她的眼睛总是常常看着天： 她的眼前总是晃动着一个盘旋翱翔的影子。 她自己也不确定那是幻觉想象还是真实存在，是一个幽灵还是一个真神的造物。

“你看什么呢？” 短视的小白鸡嘲弄着她。 “天上除了云、雨、风、闪电、雷鸣，什么都没有。 我们必需的东西都在地上呀。 你看： 这儿有草籽、小虫、蚯蚓，还有农夫在食槽里给我们的谷物。 你的眼睛应该往地上看。 一切你想要的就在你的身边。”

稚鹰没说话。 她的锐利的鹰的目光盯在天上那个盘旋翱翔的影子。

“是呀。” 勤劳的小黄鸡用爪子飞快地扒着身下的土，并用嘴轻快地在土中挑出草籽，谷粒和小虫，津津有味地品尝着各种食品的滋味。 “你看，地上的食物真多。 在这些食物中我能体验到幸福与快乐。”

稚鹰没说话。 她的敏感的耳朵正听着那风的呼叫与海的咆哮。

“你怎么不说话？ 你聋了还是哑了？” 勇敢的小黑鸡挺着自己红红的冠子，一边与另一只小雄鸡搏斗打架，一边扭着他的脖子嘲弄着稚鹰。 “看你就不顺眼： 你的嘴是那么丑，像个钩子。 你的羽毛是那么硬，那么粗，碰到谁谁都会疼。 你的眼睛是那么尖利，一下就看到其他鸡的心底。 谁见你谁都躲着走。 你不会有朋友与知音的。 你真可怜。 你会永远寂寞孤独的。”

稚鹰没说话。 她的心在激烈地跳荡着。 她的血在脉中奔涌。 她对天空的激情逐渐将鸡群们所绝不可能察觉的力量汇集到她的翅膀中、、、。

农夫来了。 他将谷物倒在鸡槽中。 鸡群一拥而上，厮打着，争抢着，吼叫着，踩踏着其他的鸡，吞咽着那槽中的食物。

稚鹰没有动。 她静静地站在地上。 她的头高傲地仰视着天空。 她的尖锐的视觉与不倦的搜寻终于使她清晰地看到了那天边翱翔的影子： 他盘旋在蓝天上，出没在云朵中，随着气流的波动而起伏翱翔，吸允着太阳的能量，俯视着地面上的一切。 他的嘴和她的一样锋利。 他的羽毛和她的一样坚硬。 他的眼睛和她的一样清纯而不妥协。 她看到了他的灵魂。 她看到了她自己。

突然间，那云朵中的精灵发出了一声撕裂长空的尖叫。 地上的鸡群被那声尖利的嘶喊震惊，吓得四下奔逃，躲入鸡棚灌木丛中。 只有稚鹰没有恐慌。 她的心被那声撕裂长空的尖叫震撼了。 她终于懂得了她自己的真实存在。 她终于懂得了她是一只雌鹰，她根本就从不属于这充满污秽肮脏的鸡棚与那低下的，虚无的，被农夫喂养与被农夫宰割的鸡的生活。 她终于懂得了那撕裂奴性灵魂的，来自天空宇宙的自由的呐喊是只为她而发出的，呼唤着她张开她强有力的双翅飞向长空，飞向自由，飞向上苍，飞向他的怀抱。

稚鹰挺起她那高傲的头，展开她那矫健的双翅，张开她那尖利的嘴，发出了她自己也难以相信的震撼长宇的呐喊。 她拼力扑打着她的双翅，冲向天空，冲向风暴，冲向闪电，冲向太阳，冲向上苍，冲向她的本质，冲向她的爱、、。

一瞬间，地上的鸡群被稚鹰的起飞惊呆了。 但他们马上就又恢复了原状 – 扒地，寻虫，啄米，争食，夺雌，排便，被屠、、、。 毕竟，他们只是些在污秽中与同伴夺食与在农夫的喂养、取蛋、屠宰中寻找安逸与满足的鸡。 他们永远不会懂得鹰的追求与爱。

、、、长空中，在金色的阳光下，那两个自由的精灵在彼此的爱慕中，在自然的拥抱中，在欢乐的激情中，在向未知的进军与挑战中翱翔着、拼搏着、嘶叫着、召唤着那些在仍在鸡群中的稚鹰、、、。

鹰与鸡
Eagle and Chicken

献给我的爱 – 人的自由之灵
To My Love – the Spirit of Human Freedom

“自由人”对抗“中国人”序列
“Free Beings” vs. “Chinese” Series

By Kai Chen 陈凯 (Written 3/22/2011, Reprint 9/2/2011)
www.kaichenblog.blogspot.com

Translation by Kai Chen 10/29/2011

------------------------------------------

No one knows who placed an eagle egg in a chicken's nest.

When the young eagle was first hatched, she was weak and had very hard time surviving among the fast moving baby chickens. Yet her eyes often stared at the sky, for no apparent reason: There was something in the sky - a soaring shadow in the winds under the sun, that attracted her attention. However, she was not quite sure whether it was real or just an illusion, whether it was just a specter or a true existence created by God.

"What are you looking for up there?" The near-sighted white chick derided her. "There is nothing up there besides clouds, rain, winds, lighting, thunders.... All we need is on the ground. You see: There is grass. There are seeds to eat. There are delicacies such as earthworms and bugs. There is also the guaranteed daily portions from our master - the farmer. Our eyes should be focused on the ground. Everything we need for happiness is on the ground."

The young eagle didn't speak. Her vision was getting sharper. The shape of that soaring shadow in the sky was getting clearer.

"That is so right." The very agile yellow chick agreed, using her feet in fast motion to dig out seeds, worms and bugs, savoring the delicious snacks. "You see: There are all kinds of food here in the dirt. They are so tasty. I am so satisfied and contented. Why don't you come and dig with us."

The young eagle didn't speak. Her ears started to hear the whistling winds, the thundering storms and the violently screaming seas.

"Why don't you talk at all, like all of us? Are you deaf or mute?" The brave little black chick, with his red crown standing straight up on his head, asked, fighting with another male chick over a morsel of food. "You are so weird and odd. You look ugly as well. Your beak is not straight like all of us. It is like a hook sticking out in front. Your feather is so thick and hard. Everyone avoids contacting you for fear of getting hurt. Your eyes, yes, especially your eyes, are so sharp and uncompromising. They poke deep into others' hearts. No one can hide from you. You will never have friends. You will be forever alone. I pity you."

The young eagle didn't speak. Her heart was pounding violently. Her blood was surging fast in her veins. Undetectably, she was gathering strength in her wings.

The farmer came. He poured chicken food into the feeding container. All the chickens went crazy, fighting for the space to get a bite of the free food. They screamed, beat upon each other, trampled onto each other, extending their necks to swallow whatever the farmer fed them, being afraid of getting less than others.

The young eagle didn't move. She stood quietly by the commotion. Her head was held high and mighty with an utmost dignity. She finally saw clearly the soaring shadow in the clouds: He was real. He was extending his giant wings, gliding with the winds, penetrating the clouds with confidence and ease. He absorbed the endless energy from the sun, watching and examining all occurrences on the ground.... His beak was as sharp as hers. His feather was as firm as hers. His eyes, yes, especially his eyes, was as pure and uncompromising as hers. She actually saw the image of herself. She was looking at her own soul.

All of a sudden, that proud specter in the lofty sky uttered an incredibly heart-shuttering, ear-piercing cry. The crowd of chicken was scattering from their feasts, panicked by the horrifying sound from the sky. They ran fast toward the nearest shelter, toward the bushes and chicken houses. Only the young eagle remained calm and composed. It was as though she had always expected the battle cry, like a soldier expecting the sound of the bugle. She finally realized her true identity, her true existence. She finally realized she was an eagle. She had never belonged to the chicken houses, to the dirt and filth on the ground, to the warmth, the comfort and meaninglessness of a chicken's life, to the misery, pain, indignity and unavoidable slaughter from the master... She finally understood the powerful calling from the sky: The soul-piercing scream from the universe was uttered only for her sake, yelling at her, tearing down all the doubts and fears from her heart, injecting immense energy into her wings, prompting her to extend her wings naturally to fly toward the sky, toward freedom, toward God, toward the embrace of his passionate love.

The young eagle raised her head, extended her wings, opened her mouth to cry out the passion for life. For the first time in her life, she heard her own incredibly gut-shuttering scream. She gathered her strength, awkwardly in the beginning, to flutter her immense wings to fly toward the sky, toward the clouds, toward the rain, the lighting and the thunder, toward the sun, toward her own soul, toward her own love.....

The chickens on the ground were stupefied by the young eagle's flight and her cry of freedom. They only glanced from the corner of their eyes at the soaring eagle with fear and trepidation. Yet soon they returned to their normal routine, digging, eating, gossiping, fighting, laying eggs, being slaughtered by their master.... After all, they were only chickens settling for a chicken's life. They could never understand an eagle's yearning and love.

..... Under the sun's golden rays, the two free souls were soaring above the sky, immersed in each other's joy and passion. In the firm embrace of their own nature, in joy and love, in the endless challenge of the unknown they had to face in the future, in the passionate anticipation of coming battles in life, the two eagles kept flying higher and farther, screaming to call all the young eagles among chickens to discover the true nature of their being. They would fly around the world, screaming, wakening up all the free souls, till the end of time.

屎虼螂的颂歌
Sing in Praise of Dung Beetles

陈凯 著 By Kai Chen (Written 4/2/2007, Reprint 9/20/2011)

农夫们将自己一生的积蓄带到市场上去购货。 他们想买一件东西来证实他们一生的价值。

市场上卖货的人很多。 他们有不同种族的人们，有不同宗教的人们，有不同文化的人们、、。 他们的货也是多种多样的，五颜六色，五花八门。 农夫们看花了眼，搞不清哪件货值得他们一生的积蓄。 于是农夫们就将注意力集中在卖货人的身上。

最后农夫们决定只从那个长的与他们相近的商人那里买货。 但那个商人的货都是放在一个个四四方方的盒子里的。 谁也看不到盒子里究竟是什么。 商人卖货的唯一条件是买货的人只能在回家以后才能将盒子打开。 商人并让农夫们许诺绝不退货。

农夫们想要知道盒子里到底装了什么，但又不愿从与他们长相不同的商人们哪里买货，即使那些商人们的货品是公开让顾客察看检验的。 农夫们最终决定用他们一生的积蓄去买那些装在盒子里，不能看，不能摸的货。 每一个农夫都将自己一生的积蓄买了一个盒子回家。

当他们回家打开盒子一看的时候，发现盒子里有一个用极为精巧的包装展现的棕色的圆球。 它是潮湿的，拳头大小，有些尚没消化的草叶从中滋出。 一种农夫们非常熟悉的气味从中弥漫出来。 农夫们觉得非常困惑，不知如何鉴定。 只是当他们的孩子们看到后叫出来“驴粪蛋”的时候，他们才恍然大悟。

有的农夫非常愤怒。 但他们已经许诺绝不退货。 他们知道自己受了骗，一生的积蓄已荡然无存。 他们离开了他们的祖地，不断地告诫着他们的后代不要再重犯他们的无知，偏见与愚蠢。 他们决心绝不重蹈覆辙并在新的家园建立新的正义的文化。 他们把那新的家园称之为“美德国度”。

更多的农夫们不光不觉得羞耻与受骗, 他们大骂着他们的后代们并让他们住口。 他们为他们的驴粪蛋起了一个新名称：“黄金蛋“。

他们建立了”黄金蛋“研究所，”黄金蛋“大学，不断地教育，告诫他们的后代们”黄金蛋“的伟大。 他们说黄金蛋之伟大是因为它的得来是不易的，是来自农夫们一生的血汗辛劳。 他们说黄金蛋之伟大是因为它来自”黄金驴“-- 它披着”黄金甲“，食了”黄金草“，喝了”黄金河“的水。 他们不知疲倦地，兢兢业业的将他们毕生的精力投入了”黄金文化“，有所发明地研究着为什么黄金蛋的光泽是那么亮，黄金蛋的味道是那么美，黄金蛋的气味是那么香，黄金蛋的品质是那么纯，黄金蛋的原由是那么古，黄金蛋的价值是那么高、、。 他们发明了”黄金蛋“文学并书写了一卷又一卷不朽的”黄金卷“及”黄金诗篇“，如”黄金游记“，黄金演义”，“黄金浒传”，“黄金楼梦”、、。 近代的最高的“黄金著作”叫做“黄金选集”。 自然地“黄金主义“，“黄金思想”，“黄金理论”，“黄金原则”，“黄金坚持”，“黄金代表”，“黄金荣耻”都应运而生。 他们称着“黄金帝”，舞着“黄金龙”，披着“黄金袍”，打着“黄金旗”，宣扬着“黄金特色”的“黄金主义”。 一批批的“黄金圣人”被一代代的“黄金传人”推上了“黄金祭坛”。 “黄金文化”由此不断发扬光大，一代又一代地千古流传。

那些生活在“美德国度”的人们偶然返回他们的祖地，惊异地发现他们的祖地已经没有了人的存在。 在那满地驴粪蛋的，臭气熏天的大地上，只有大大小小的屎虼螂们兢兢业业的打理着，维护着，建造着驴粪蛋的事业，弘扬着驴粪蛋的文化，唱赞着驴粪蛋的悠久与伟大。

屎虼螂的颂歌（中英文）
Sing in Praise of Dung Beetles (in Chinese & English)

陈凯 著 By Kai Chen Written 4/2/2007, Reprint 9/20/2011
www.kaichenblog.blogspot.com

Translation into English by Kai Chen 12/28/2010

农夫们将自己一生的积蓄带到市场上去购货。 他们想买一件东西来证实他们一生的价值。

Peasants brought their life savings to the market, wanting to purchase one thing that could demonstrate to the world their lives’ worth.

市场上卖货的人很多。 他们有不同种族的人们，有不同宗教的人们，有不同文化的人们、、。 他们的货也是多种多样的，五颜六色，五花八门。 农夫们看花了眼，搞不清哪件货值得他们一生的积蓄。 于是农夫们就将注意力集中在卖货人的身上。

There were many merchants selling their merchandise on the market. All of them were from different places and of different races, cultures and religions. Their goods also reflected this diversity. They were colorful and full of varieties. The peasants had never seen so many goods and they were very excited yet confused and fearful, not knowing what to buy to prove their lives’ worth.

最后农夫们决定只从那个长的与他们相近的商人那里买货。 但那个商人的货都是放在一个个四四方方的彩色盒子里的。 谁也看不到盒子里究竟是什么。 商人卖货的唯一条件是买货的人只能在回家以后才能将盒子打开。 商人并让农夫们许诺绝不退货。

After a tortuous hesitation and a long debate, the peasants decided to buy only from those who looked like themselves with similar racial, ethnic and cultural background. However, all such merchants’ goods were packaged in colorful square boxes and no one knew what was in them. The merchants had two conditions for all buyers of their goods: First, those who buy their goods must go home before they open their packages. Second, the buyers can never return the goods for refund.

农夫们想要知道盒子里到底装了什么，但又不愿从与他们长相不同的商人们哪里买货，即使那些商人们的货品是公开让顾客察看检验的。 农夫们最终决定用他们一生的积蓄去买那些装在盒子里，不能看，不能摸的货。 每一个农夫都将自己一生的积蓄买了一个盒子回家。

All the peasants wanted to know what was in those colorful boxes. They felt uncertain about buying from the merchants with such conditions. Yet they were much more unwilling to purchase anything from other merchants of different looks and backgrounds, even those merchants’ goods were open in the plain sight and everyone was allowed to examine them carefully before they bought them. Overwhelmed by their fear of differences, the peasants finally decided to spend their life savings on those colorful boxes from the merchants of similar looks and backgrounds. Every one of the peasants bought a colorful box and went home.

当他们回家打开盒子一看的时候，发现盒子里有一个用极为精巧的包装展现的棕色的圆球。 它是潮湿的，拳头大小，有些尚没消化的草叶从中滋出。 一种农夫们非常熟悉的气味从中弥漫出来。 农夫们觉得非常困惑，不知如何鉴定。 只是当他们的孩子们看到后叫出来“驴粪蛋”的时候，他们才恍然大悟。

After they returned home, they eagerly opened the boxes. They discovered inside the box there was an exquisitely packaged brown ball. The brown fist-sized ball was moist with some undigested grass sticking out from its surface. A very familiar smell emanated from this brown ball. The peasants were very puzzled, unable to decide what it was that they bought with their life savings. Only when their children yelled out “donkey dung, yak, donkey dung”, running away covering their nose, they suddenly understood.

有的农夫非常愤怒。 但他们已经许诺绝不退货。 他们知道自己受了骗，一生的积蓄已荡然无存。 他们离开了他们的祖地，不断地告诫着他们的后代不要再重犯他们的无知，偏见与愚蠢。 他们决心绝不重蹈覆辙并在新的家园建立新的正义的文化。 他们把那新的家园称之为“美德国度”。

Some of the peasants were very angry, knowing they were cheated. But they had already promised never to return what they bought. Their entire live savings were gone and their lives’ worth was nowhere to be found. They left their own homeland to start a new life somewhere else, all the time warning and educating their own children not to repeat their own stupidity based on bias and fear of differences. They eventually established a new village with a new culture based on individual virtue, justice, courage and rationality. They named their new village “Land of the Beautiful”.

更多的农夫们不光不觉得羞耻与受骗, 他们大骂着他们的后代们并让他们住口。 他们认为如果他们买到的是那么昂贵，那这个货品一定也同样有价值。 他们为他们的驴粪蛋起了一个新名称：“黄金蛋“。

However, most other peasants felt otherwise. They reacted by cursing their own children, calling them names and shutting them up. They reasoned that since they spent their entire life savings on this one thing, it had to be very valuable. So they named their donkey dung “Golden Ball”, just to reflect its preciousness.

他们建立了”黄金蛋“研究所，”黄金蛋“大学，不断地教育，告诫他们的后代们”黄金蛋“的伟大。 他们说黄金蛋之伟大是因为它的得来是不易的，是来自农夫们一生的血汗辛劳。 他们说黄金蛋之伟大是因为它来自”黄金驴“-- 它披着”黄金甲“，食了”黄金草“，喝了”黄金河“的水。 他们不知疲倦地，兢兢业业的将他们毕生的精力投入了”黄金文化“，有所发明地研究着为什么黄金蛋的光泽是那么亮，黄金蛋的味道是那么美，黄金蛋的气味是那么香，黄金蛋的品质是那么纯，黄金蛋的原由是那么古，黄金蛋的价值是那么高、、。 他们发明了”黄金蛋“文学并书写了一卷又一卷不朽的”黄金卷“及”黄金诗篇“，如”黄金游记“，黄金演义”，“黄金浒传”，“黄金楼梦”、、。 近代的最高的“黄金著作”叫做“黄金选集”。 自然地“黄金主义“，“黄金思想”，“黄金理论”，“黄金原则”，“黄金坚持”，“黄金代表”，“黄金荣耻”都应运而生。 他们称着“黄金帝”，舞着“黄金龙”，披着“黄金袍”，打着“黄金旗”，宣扬着“黄金特色”的“黄金主义”。 一批批的“黄金圣人”被一代代的“黄金传人”推上了“黄金祭坛”。 “黄金文化”由此不断发扬光大，一代又一代地千古流传。

Later on, they worked even harder to prove the priceless value of donkey dung and hence the value of their lives:

They established all kinds of institutes and universities to educate their offspring about how great the “Golden Ball” was and how valuable it was to all their lives. They told everyone that the Golden Ball’s greatness was in its price – the price of so many people’s lives and so much hard work. They invented fables, proverbs and folklores to sing in praise of the Golden Ball. They extolled that the Golden Ball was from Golden Donkey – It had Golden Armors on its back. It ate Golden Grass by the Golden River. They wrote many volumes of books to espouse the virtues of Golden Ball Culture. They marketed the Golden Ball with a feverish passion in the world, telling all mankind how beautiful the Golden Ball is, how fragrant the Golden Ball smells, how pure a quality the Golden Ball is if it is from the peasants’ homeland, how historical and valuable the Golden Ball is to all mankind in the world….

Their children have learned all about Golden Ball Culture. They have read Golden Poems, Golden Literature Collections from the ancients, Golden Thoughts from the modern saints and saviors, Golden Theories from sages and gods, Golden Principles from Golden Governments, Golden Rules, Golden Morals, Golden Ethics, Golden Characters, Golden Heroes and Martyrs, etc. etc…. They have worshipped Golden Emperors and Golden Chairmen. They have danced with Golden Dragons. They have upheld Golden Flags. They have fortified a Golden Society. They have forged Golden Generations with Golden Characteristics. They have all knelt before the Golden Alta to chant Golden Scriptures….

A Golden Existence thus has been emerged, prolonged and reinforced in the Golden Land, on and on, till eternity.

那些生活在“美德国度”的人们偶然返回他们的祖地，惊异地发现他们的祖地已经没有了人的存在。 在那满地驴粪蛋的，臭气熏天的大地上，只有大大小小的屎虼螂们兢兢业业的打理着，维护着，建造着驴粪蛋的事业，弘扬着驴粪蛋的文化，唱赞着驴粪蛋的悠久与伟大。

After awhile some peasants who live in the Land of the Beautiful returned to their ancestral land for a visit. To their horror, surprise and amazement, they have discovered that in their ancestral land there has long been a total absence of human beings. On the ancient abyss, enveloped with a nauseating stink of donkey dung, countless dung beetles are hard at work managing countless pieces of fresh and stale donkey dung, singing passionately in praise of a culture of excrement from donkeys and dung beetles.