新年首日
文/翼華
萬物沉于肅靜的時刻
陽光與雪花，不知誰先叩響人間晨扉
曾經(jīng)棲在窗臺，日日啼叫的鳥兒
藏在檐角，斂翅躲避凜冽寒風(fēng)
蒼天之下，我們的幸福
是習(xí)慣了日升月落的既定軌跡
在朝暮輪轉(zhuǎn)里，安守年歲的安穩(wěn)
我們的祖先，悄悄從上帝的衣兜里
偷出那把綴著微光的鑰匙
輕輕啟開，塵世里
一道道藏著謎底的神秘門扉
直到今天，我們?nèi)詴?/p>
鄭重地從曦光初綻時啟程
奔赴往后的朝暮流轉(zhuǎn)，四季更迭
沒有盛大的緣由，沒有刻意的約定
唯此一日，靜立時光渡口
2026年1月1日
First Day of the New Year
By Yihua
All things lie in profound tranquility
I know not who first knocks on the morning door of the world,
the sunshine or the snowflakes.
The birds that once perched on the windowsill, singing every day,
Now hide under the eaves, folding their wings to escape the bitter cold.
Beneath the vast sky, our happiness
Lies in getting used to the fixed orbit of sunrise and sunset.
We quietly abide by the peace of years
In the alternation of dawn and dusk.
Our ancestors secretly stole
That key studded with faint glimmers
From the Creator's pocket,
And gently opened, in the mortal world,
Those mysterious doors hiding the answers to life.
Even today, we still
Set off solemnly at the first glow of dawn,
Marching towards the coming cycles of dawn and dusk, the changing of four seasons.
No grand reasons, no deliberate appointments.
On this sole day, we stand silently
At the ferry of time.
January 1, 2026
