孩子，你真是快活呀，一早晨坐在泥土里，耍着折断的小树枝儿。

我微笑地看你在那里耍着那根折断的小树枝儿。

我正忙着算账，一小时一小时在那里加叠数字。

也许你在看我，想道：这种好没趣的游戏，竟把你一早晨的好时间浪费掉了！

孩子，我忘了聚精会神玩耍树枝与泥饼的方法了。

我寻求贵重的玩具，收集大量的金银。

无论找到什么你总能创造出使你快乐的游戏，而我却把我的时间与力气都浪费在那些我永不能得到的东西上。

我在我单薄的独木船里挣扎着要驶过欲望之海，意忘了我也是在那里做游戏了。

Playthings

Child，how happy you are sitting in the dust，playing with a broken twig all the morning.

I smile at your play with that little bit of a broken twig.

I am busy with my accounts，adding up figures by the hour.

Perhaps you glance at me and think，“What a stupid game to spoil your morning with！”

Child，I have forgotten the art of being absorbed in sticks and mud‐pies.

I seek out costly playthings，and gather lumps of gold and silver.

With whatever you find you create your glad games，I spend both my time and my strength over things I never can obtain.

In my frail canoe I struggle to cross the sea of desire，and forget that I too am playing a game.