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万物沉于肃静的时刻

阳光与雪花，不知谁先叩响人间晨扉

曾经栖在窗台，日日啼叫的鸟儿

藏在檐角，敛翅躲避凛冽寒风

苍天之下，我们的幸福

是习惯了日升月落的既定轨迹

在朝暮轮转里，安守年岁的安稳

我们的祖先，悄悄从上帝的衣兜里

偷出那把缀着微光的钥匙

轻轻启开，尘世里

一道道藏着谜底的神秘门扉

直到今天，我们仍会

郑重地从曦光初绽时启程

奔赴往后的朝暮流转，四季更迭

没有盛大的缘由，没有刻意的约定

唯此一日，静立时光渡口

        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