学骑自行车
我八岁那年，爸爸买了一辆小自行车给我。
The year I was eight, my dad bought me a small bicycle.
我特别高兴，可是也特别害怕。
I was thrilled, and also terrified.
第一天，我连坐上去都做不到。
On the first day I couldn't even get on it.
爸爸在后面扶着车，让我慢慢地骑。
Dad held the back of the bike and let me ride slowly.
他说：“别看地上，看前面。”
He said, "Don't look at the ground — look ahead."
我一低头就摔倒了。
Every time I looked down, I fell.
那天下午，我一共摔了十一次。
That afternoon I fell eleven times in all.
我的手被地上的小石头划破了，很疼。
My hands were scraped by the small stones on the ground and it hurt.
我想放弃，可是爸爸说：“再试一次。”
I wanted to give up, but dad said, "One more go."
最后一次，我骑了很远才发现——他早就把手松开了。
On the last attempt I'd ridden a long way before I realised he'd let go ages ago.
我回过头，看见他站在很远的地方，笑着向我招手。
I looked back and saw him standing far away, smiling and waving.
那一刻我明白了，其实我一直都可以，只是不相信自己。
In that moment I understood that I'd always been able to — I just hadn't believed it.
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