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谢谢你，藏在我每天的路里
清晨的书包，拉链拉好，妈妈蹲下来替我再检查一遍。
锅里有热粥，杯里有温水，妈妈把每个早晨摆在我面前。
校门口的人潮里，老师总是站在最前面，喊我的名字从不念错。
我的名字第一次被你写进作业本，拼音小小的，像替我安了一个家。
上课我举不起手，声音卡在喉咙里，老师等你，等了很久很久。
你走过来，轻轻敲两下我的桌子，像在说：别怕，再试一次。
我的铅笔断了，橡皮不见了，朋友把你的推到桌子中间。
你说用吧用吧，我家还有一大块，掰开的橡皮，两头都圆。
下雨天共撑一把伞，你的肩膀湿了一半，伞却一直往我这边歪。
我摔倒在跑道上，膝盖破了皮，朋友伸过来的手比老师来得还快。
谢谢妈妈，晚上给我留一盏灯，我写作业，你缝书包的带子。
谢谢老师，我在黑板上写错的字，你不用红叉，用红圈圈出来。
谢谢朋友，吵架以后你先递来的纸条，上面只有三个字：和好吧。
谢谢这些小事，一件一件，小得像芝麻，攒起来像一座小山。
妈妈是灯，老师是路，朋友是并肩走的那一小片太阳。
今天我不藏了，谢谢两个字，我要大大方方说出口。
妈妈，谢谢你，我爱你，晚上让我再帮你捶一次背。
老师，谢谢你，我记得，你的名字我写在本子第一页。
朋友，谢谢你，明天见，我们的约定拉过钩，不算数才怪。
谢谢这两个字，长着小小的腿，从我的嘴里走到你的心里。
它走过清晨，走过傍晚，走过教室的窗和校门口的大树。
它走到每一个对我好过的人面前，站定，说：我来了。
我把谢谢说给妈妈听，妈妈的眼睛弯成了月牙。
我把谢谢说给老师听，老师的笑比上课铃还响亮。
我把谢谢说给朋友听，朋友说：走啦走啦，一起回家。
谢谢会走路，也会长大，它在我心里，一天长高一寸。
谢谢这两个字还会发芽，说一句，心里就开一朵小花。
Thank You, Hidden in My Road Each Day
My schoolbag in the early morning, zipper pulled shut; Mama crouches down to check it once more for me.
Hot porridge in the pot, warm water in my cup; Mama lays every morning out before me.
In the crowd at the school gate, the teacher always stands at the front, calling my name without ever stumbling over it.
You wrote my name in my exercise book for the first time, the pinyin small, as if building me a little home.
In class my hand would not rise, my voice stuck in my throat; teacher waited, waited a long, long time.
You walked over and tapped my desk twice, lightly, as if to say: do not be afraid, try once more.
My pencil broke, my eraser went missing; my friend pushed hers to the middle of our desk.
You said, use it, use it, we still have a big piece at home; the eraser broken in two, both ends round.
One umbrella shared on a rainy day, your shoulder half wet, the umbrella tilted all the way toward me.
I fell on the running track and scraped my knee; the hand my friend reached out came faster than the teacher.
Thank you, Mama, for leaving a light on for me at night: me doing homework, you mending my schoolbag strap beside me.
Thank you, teacher, for the wrong characters I write: you do not strike them with a red cross, you circle them in red.
Thank you, my friend, for the note you passed first after our quarrel, only three words on it: let us make up.
Thank you, small things, one by one, small as sesame seeds, heaped up like a little hill.
Mama is the lamp, the teacher is the road, my friend is the small piece of sun walking shoulder to shoulder.
Today I will not hide it; the two words thank you, I will say them out loud, unashamed.
Mama, thank you, I love you; tonight let me knock your back again for you.
Teacher, thank you, I remember; I write your name on the first page of my notebook.
Friend, thank you, see you tomorrow; our promise was made with linked fingers, and breaking it would be strange.
The words thank you have tiny legs; they walk from my mouth into your heart.
They walk past the morning, past the evening, past the classroom window and the big tree at the school gate.
They stop in front of every person who has been kind to me and say: I have arrived.
I say thank you to Mama, and her eyes bend like crescent moons.
I say thank you to the teacher, and the teacher laughs louder than the class bell.
I say thank you to my friend, and my friend says: come on, come on, let us walk home together.
Thank you can walk, and it can grow; inside my heart it grows one inch taller every day.
The words thank you can also sprout: say them once, and a little flower opens in the heart.
谢谢是一颗小种子
谢谢是一颗小种子，妈妈第一个把它放进我的手心。
那年我摔倒在门口，哭着不起来，妈妈不扶，只说：再试一次。
我爬起来拍拍土，妈妈的手心就摊开了，里面躺着一颗小小的谢谢。
我把它攥紧，攥得它发烫，它在我手心里轻轻动了一下。
谢谢是一颗小种子，老师教它怎样向着光长。
我在讲台前念错了字，全班笑，老师摆手：别笑，让他再念一遍。
我念对了。下课老师摸摸我的头，我看见光，光里有一颗谢谢在发芽。
老师把拼音写在田字格里，一笔一画，像给种子松土。
我在田字格里长大，谢谢也在我心里长高了一截。
谢谢是一颗小种子，朋友陪它一起拔节。
你把半块橡皮掰给我，咔嚓一声，谢谢就抽出了一片新叶。
你摔我书包带子，我追你三条走廊，笑出来的谢谢像鸟叫。
我们拉钩：谁先说谢谢谁是小狗。可心里那颗种子，听见了就偷偷长。
种子一天天长，长成了一棵小树，站在我的心口上。
树的第一根枝，够得着厨房的灯，那是留给妈妈的。
树的第二根枝，够得着讲台的粉笔灰，那是留给老师的。
树的第三根枝，够得着操场的大树，那是留给朋友一起晃的。
风一吹，满树的叶子都响，哗啦啦，哗啦啦。
叶子说的是什么？凑近听：谢谢，谢谢，谢谢。
妈妈听见了，在围裙上擦手，笑得眼睛弯弯。
老师听见了，粉笔停在黑板上，回头笑得比上课铃响。
朋友听见了，拽我袖子：听见了听见了，走，一起回家。
现在我的谢谢长高了，高过屋顶，高过校门口的老树。
它把影子分给清晨的粥，分给作业本上的红圈，分给掰开的橡皮。
春天来了，树开出花，一朵一朵，全是小小的谢谢。
风把花瓣吹走，吹到不认识的人脸上，他们也笑了。
原来谢谢会旅行：从妈妈的手心出发，经过老师的光，经过朋友的歌。
如果你也捡到一颗小种子，别慌，它叫谢谢。
把它放在手心里，对它说：去长大吧，替我去谢谢所有对我好的人。
Thank You Is a Little Seed
Thank you is a little seed, and Mama was the first to place it in my palm.
That year I fell at the doorway and cried and would not get up; Mama did not lift me, she only said: try once more.
I got up and brushed off the dust, and Mama opened her palm, and inside lay a tiny thank you.
I closed my fist around it, and it grew warm, and it stirred once softly in my hand.
Thank you is a little seed, and the teacher taught it how to grow toward the light.
I misread a character at the front of the room and the whole class laughed; the teacher waved her hand: do not laugh, let him read it once more.
I read it right. After class the teacher ruffled my hair, and I saw the light, and inside the light a thank you was sprouting.
The teacher writes pinyin inside the grid squares, stroke by stroke, like loosening the soil around a seed.
I grow up inside those grid squares, and the thank you grows a joint taller inside my heart.
Thank you is a little seed, and my friend keeps it company as it joints.
You broke your eraser in half and gave me one piece; with one crack, the thank you put out a new leaf.
You yank the strap of my schoolbag, I chase you down three corridors, and the thank you that laughs out sounds like birdsong.
We link fingers: whoever says thank you first is a puppy. But the seed inside the heart, once it hears, secretly grows.
The seed grows day by day into a small tree standing in the center of my chest.
Its first branch reaches the kitchen lamp; that one is kept for Mama.
Its second branch reaches the chalk dust at the podium; that one is kept for the teacher.
Its third branch reaches the big tree on the playground; that one is for my friend and me to swing on together.
When the wind blows, every leaf on the tree rings, rustling, rustling.
What are the leaves saying? Lean close: thank you, thank you, thank you.
Mama hears, wipes her hands on her apron, smiling with eyes bent like moons.
The teacher hears, chalk paused on the blackboard, turning round with a laugh louder than the class bell.
My friend hears, tugging my sleeve: I heard it, I heard it, come on, let us walk home.
Now my thank you has grown tall, taller than the roof, taller than the old tree at the school gate.
It shares its shadow with the morning porridge, with the red circles on the exercise book, with the eraser broken in two.
Spring comes, the tree blooms, flower after flower, all of them tiny thank yous.
The wind carries the petals away, onto the faces of strangers, and they smile too.
So thank you can travel: it sets out from the palm of Mama, passes through the light of the teacher, passes through the song of the friend.
If you also pick up a little seed, do not panic; its name is thank you.
Hold it in your palm and say to it: go and grow, and thank all the people who have been kind to me, in my place.
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