Suppose someone gave you a pen - a sealed, solid-colored pen.
假如有人送你一支笔，一支不可拆卸的单色钢笔。
You couldn't see how much ink it had. It might run dry after the first few tentative words or last just long enough to create a masterpiece(or several) that would last forever and make a difference in the scheme of things. You don't know before you begin. Under the rules of the game, you really never know. You have to take a chance!
看不出里面究竟有多少墨水。或许在你试探性地写上几个字后它就会枯干，或许足够用来创作一部影响深远的不朽巨著(或是几部)。而这些，在动笔前，都是无法得知的。 在这个游戏规则下，你真的永远不会预知结果。你只能去碰运气！
And of what would you write: Of love? Hate? Fun? Misery? Life? Death? Nothing? Everything? Would you write to please just yourself? Or others? Or yourself by writing for others? Would your strokes be tremblinglytimid or brilliantly bold? Fancy with a flourish or plain? Would you even write? Once you have the pen, no rule says you have to write. Would you sketch? Scribble? Doodle or draw? Would you stay in or on the lines, or see no lines at all, even if they were there? Or are they?
你又会用笔写下些什么呢：爱？恨？喜？悲？生？死？虚无？万物？你写作只是为了愉己？还是为了悦人？抑或是借替人书写而愉己？你的落笔会是颤抖胆怯的，还是鲜明果敢的？你的想象会是丰富的还是贫乏的？甚或你根本没有落笔？这是因为，你拿到笔以后，没有哪条规则说你必须写作。也许你要画素描，乱写一气？信笔涂鸦？画画？你会保持写在线内还是线上，还是根本看不到线，即使有线在那里？嗯，真的有线吗？
There's a lot to think about here, isn't there?
这里面有许多东西值得考虑，不是吗？
Now, suppose someone gave you a life...
现在，假如有人给予你一支生命的笔……
