我们曾经漫步在伊洛瓦底江边，
探索人生的意义；
我们曾经在教室里讨论钻研， 如何去争取七彩绚烂的明天。 遥望祖国在暴风雨中飘摇， 我们就象欲飞的马，弦上的箭。 我们朗读着鲁迅的《呐喊》， 我们呼喊着高尔基的《海燕》； 年青的心塑造起一座高高的灯塔， 照亮黑暗的海洋， 用青春的火焰！ 半个世纪过去了，过去了…… 当年的守塔人，今在何方？ 啊，那个喜好绘画的美术编辑， 安居在北国一个烟囱林立的城关； 那个言谈侃侃的胖墩， 沉思在绿树葱茏的南洋岸边； 那个沉静寡言爱好科学的他吗？
曾经策划过石油开采， 在渤海之滨； 你问那个笔迹规整的壁报抄写人？ 他，还在地势高寒的缅北荒原； 哦，唯有的那朵幽闭清兰， 已在沧桑的岁月中枯萎， 回归自然； 而我，犹似一只断线的风筝， 飘落在遥远的异国岸边……！ 如今，科学家发现在地中海里， 有一座灯塔，沉陷在三百年前， 啊，我们那座用梦幻塑造的灯塔呢， 是否依然隐藏在彼此的心田； 我用望乡的眼神凝向天边， 什么时候？再欢聚在大金塔旁！
Deep Affection Between Classmates
We once walked along the Irrawaddy River, searching for the meaning of life;
we once discussed and studied in the classroom, how to win a tomorrow blazing with seven colors. Looking toward the motherland, rocking in the storm, we were like horses about to fly, arrows upon the string.
We read Lu Xun’s *Call to Arms*, we cried out with Gorky’s *Stormy Petrel*; young hearts built a tall lighthouse, lighting the darkened sea with the flames of youth!
Half a century has passed, has passed… Where are the lighthouse keepers of those days now?
Ah, that art editor who loved to draw now lives in a northern city thick with smokestacks; that plump fellow who always spoke so freely now sits in thought beside a green southern shore; and that quiet one, so fond of science? He once helped plan oil exploration along the coast of the Bohai Sea.
You ask about the wall-newspaper copyist with the neat, careful handwriting? He is still there, on the cold highlands of northern Burma.
Oh, only that secluded orchid, the one flower among us, has withered through the vicissitudes of the years and returned to nature.
And I am still like a kite with a broken string, blown down upon a distant foreign shore…!
Now scientists have discovered in the Mediterranean a lighthouse submerged three hundred years ago. Ah, what of the lighthouse we built from dreams? Does it still remain hidden somewhere within each of our hearts?
With homesick eyes I gaze toward the horizon. When will we meet again, beside the great Shwedagon Pagoda?