I have worked here since graduation,

Thirty years woven into every class.

Once I called this place my second family,

Gave all my heart to every lesson.

Colleagues like family, side by side,

But now—why has everything changed?

Why do I cry so hard, so unwillingly?

I just want to escape, now, at once,

To leave this air grown thick and heavy.

I can barely breathe—

That is the truth, the key.

I cannot imagine:

This place where thirty years took root,

Now a space I strain to flee.

Yes, everything has changed:

Old buildings dismantled,

Green trees felled.

Flowers are no more

People, too, have shifted shape.

So listen, follow your heart—

Leave.

This is no longer the “here” you knew.

Here lies only memories alone.

? ? 逃離

自畢業(yè)我便在此工作，

三十年光陰，織入每一節(jié)的課堂。

我曾視此為第二個家，

將全心魂，獻(xiàn)予這所有的每一課堂。

同事如親人，朝夕并肩，

而今——何以萬物更迭？

何以淚如雨下，如此不甘？

我只想逃離，此刻，即刻，

逃離這日益沉滯的空氣。

我?guī)缀鯚o法呼吸——

那便是事實(shí)，是關(guān)鍵。

我無法置信：

這三十載生根之處，

竟成我奮力掙脫的牢籠。

是的，萬物皆已變遷：

舊樓傾頹，

綠樹凋零，

繁花無蹤。

人，亦改換了形容。

故而傾聽，追隨你的心——

離去。

這里，不再是“這里”。

此地，唯余記憶伶仃。