1、王多莉：《树的念想》（原创） 2、Benno: 一首英文诗，一首荷兰诗 3、Jessy: In Me, Past, Present, Future Meet, 《你若懂我，该是多好》（by 莫言） 4、流川枫：《回忆》（by 里尔克） 5、刘桂兰：《碎片思绪之一》（原创） 6、冯一刀：《12月12日》、《孩子的世界》（原创）–因主持人疏忽，忘了这个节目，没念，遗憾。 7、施可：《晚安宝贝》–因暂时不在座位上，没念，遗憾。 8、戴维：原创诗三首。 9、Richard：背诵英文长诗A Cup of Christmas Tea (by Tom Hegg) 10、Sarah：Psalm 144 11、Rebecca：《传道书》第3章 12、江丰：弹唱《风筝》、《送别》 13、Gemsie三人组：Forever My Sister and My Friend 14、诸佳、叶子：《你是人间的四月天》 15、鲁洁：《车过枋寮》（by 余光中） 背景音乐伴奏 by 江丰 16、Edward：原创短诗 17、西瓜、豆豆、南瓜等儿童大联唱 18、陈静：《神是我们的保护者》 19、集体朗诵：《二十首情诗和一首绝望的歌》之10《我们甚至失去了》（by 聂鲁达 翻译：陈黎）
A Cup of Christmas Tea
~ By Tom Hegg ~
The log was in the fireplace, all spiced and set to burn. At last the yearly Christmas race was in the clubhouse turn. The cards were in the mail, all the gifts beneath the tree And 30 days reprieve till Visa could catch up with me.
Though smug satisfaction seemed the order of the day, Something still was nagging me and would not go away. A week before, I got a letter from my old great Aunt. It read: “Of course I’ll understand completely if you can’t, But if you find you have some time how wonderful if we Could have a little chat and share a cup of Christmas tea.”
She’d had a mild stroke that year which crippled her left side. Though house bound now my folks had said it hadn’t hurt her pride. They said: “She’d love to see you. What a nice thing it would be For you to go and maybe have a cup of Christmas tea.”
But boy! I didn’t want to go. Oh, what a bitter pill To see an old relation and how far she’d gone downhill. I remembered her as vigorous, as funny and as bright. I remembered Christmas Eves when she regaled us half the night.
I didn’t want to risk all that. I didn’t want the pain. I didn’t need to be depressed. I didn’t need the strain. And what about my brother? Why not him? She’s his aunt, too! I thought I had it justified, but then before I knew The reasons not to go I so painstakingly had built Were cracking wide and crumbling in an acid rain of guilt.
I put on boots and gloves and cap, shame stinging every pore And armed with squeegee, sand and map, I went out my front door. I drove in from the suburbs to the older part of town The pastels of the newer homes gave way to gray and brown.
I had that disembodied feeling as the car pulled up And stopped beside the wooden house That held the Christmas cup. How I got up to her door I really couldn’t tell . . . I watched my hand rise up and press the button of the bell.
I waited, aided by my nervous rocking to and fro And just as I was thinking I should turn around and go I heard the rattle of the china in the hutch against the wall. The triple beat of two feet and a crutch came down the hall. The clicking of the door latch and the sliding of the bolt And a little swollen struggle popped it open with a jolt.
She stood there pale and tiny, looking fragile as an egg. I forced myself from staring at the brace that held her leg. And though her thick bifocals Seemed to crack and spread her eyes, Their milky and refracted depths lit up with young surprise. “Come in!” “Come in!” She laughed the words. She took me by the hand And all my fears dissolved away as if by her command. We went inside and then before I knew how to react Before my eyes and ears and nose Was Christmas past . . . alive . . . intact!
The scent of candied oranges, of cinnamon and pine, The antique wooden soldiers in their military line, The porcelain Nativity I’d always loved so much, The Dresden and the crystal I’d been told I mustn’t touch. My spirit fairly bolted like a child out of class And danced among the ornaments of calico and glass.
Like magic I was six again, deep in a Christmas spell Steeped in the million memories the boy inside knew well. And here among old Christmas cards so lovingly displayed A special place of honor for the ones we kids had made. And there, beside her rocking chair, the center of it all My great Aunt stood and said How nice it was that I had come to call.
I sat and rattled on about the weather and the flu She listened very patiently then smiled and said, “What’s new?” Thoughts and words began to flow. I started making sense. I lost the phony breeziness I use when I get tense. She was still passionately interested in everything I did. She was positive. Encouraging. Like when I was a kid. Simple generalities still sent her into fits She demanded the specifics . . . the particulars . . . the bits.
We talked about the limitations that she’d had to face. She spoke with utter candor and with humor and good grace. Then defying the reality of crutch and straightened knee On wings of hospitality she flew to brew the tea. I sat alone with feelings that I hadn’t felt in years. I looked around at Christmas through a thick hot blur of tears.
And the candles and the holly she’d arranged on every shelf, The impossibly good cookies she still somehow baked herself. But these rich and tactile memories Became quite pale and thin When measured by the Christmas My great Aunt kept deep within. Her body halved and nearly spent, But my great Aunt was whole. I saw a Christmas miracle, the triumph of a soul.
The triple beat of two feet and a crutch came down the hall. The rattle of the china in the hutch against the wall. She poured two cups, she smiled, And then she handed one to me. And then we settled back and had a cup of Christmas tea.
写于2010年12月12日 by 冯一刀
没有女人 床是空的，也心是空的 这是多么令人沮丧的发现 曾经设想清灯孤寂的生活 隐居山林，甚至以此终老 这雨夜却教我格外想念女人 心里只有格外的惆怅
“当时明月在，曾照彩云归” 错过了离开了的女人 所有的一切，证明了男人离不开女人 人生啊，是一条怎样的河流 让我们无法回到过去，也无法确定未来 谁是那个在有一天早晨—— 她的鼻息轻轻冲到你的脸上 而你会像婴儿般享受她的注视