I crushed a snail on Tuesday.

Original:

I crushed a snail today.
咔嚓好大的声响,它死在我的皮鞋跟下。
A spectacle, the slime and the goo, in my memories they stay.
老师们总说,过马路要小心。
I wonder if I contributed to a little natural selection this way.
其实蜗牛很多,死一个真的不足以牵挂些什么。
How would it matter, if we’re really nothing but clay?
但人生不就是一个接一个的寄托?而蜗牛所承载的,是你我儿时的梦。


An attempt at translation:

I crushed a snail today.
(A loud “Cccrack!”, and its life ended under my heel.)
A spectacle, the slime and the goo, in my memories they stay.
(“Children, remember: Look right, look left, look right again.” Our teachers used to say.)
I wonder if I contributed to a little natural selection this way.
(Well, it really isn’t a thing, is it? After all, there’re so many of them around.)
How would it matter, if we’re really nothing but clay?
(Yet, isn’t life merely a sequence of hopes, placed upon a thing, a person, a dream? What the snail embodies, is exactly that – the dreams of our childhood days – and I crushed one of them, today.)


Another attempt at translation:

今天回家路上踩死了只蜗牛。
咔嚓好大的声响,它死在我的皮鞋跟下。
惊奇一场,粘粘稠稠的,沾尽我的记忆簿。
老师们总说,过马路要小心。
想想,自己是否因此造就了一些些的自然选择?
其实蜗牛很多,死一个真的不足以牵挂些什么。
其实生死又如何,假如我们只是粘土做的?
但人生不就是一个接一个的寄托?而蜗牛所承载的,是你我儿时的梦。

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