寂地之悼
文/翼華
狼王格林老了，老在草原深處
那座記憶的小木屋前
彌留之際，它拼盡最后力氣
向小木屋爬去，爬去
只想再靠近一點，那熟悉的氣息
才是皈依的圣地
草原的王者，沒有奔向曠野
選擇王者的埋骨之處
生命盡頭，它只愿挨近
有溫度的屋檐下
那里藏著它最珍貴的過往
藏著曾擁它入懷的暖夢
寒風(fēng)掠過草原，輕輕吹過
像一場漫長的守候
終于抵達終點
有些牽掛，與異類無關(guān)
在它守候的屋檐下
那條紅絲帶
還靜靜纏繞在脖頸上
2026年2月15日
Elegy for a Silent Land
By Yi Hua
Old grows Green, the wolf king, deep in the grassland,
Before the little wooden hut, where memories remain.
On his last breath, he summons all his strength,
Crawling, crawling toward the hut,
Only to draw nearer, to that familiar scent —
The only sacred place to which his soul is bent.
King of the plains, he does not run to the wild,
Choosing where a king shall lay his bones to rest.
At life’s end, he only longs to stay close,
Beneath a roof that once held warmth and care,
Where his most precious past is safely stored,
Where dreams once held him in a loving embrace.
Cold wind sweeps the grassland, soft and slow,
Like a long, long wait that finally meets its end.
Some bonds of love care not for kind or race.
Beneath the eave he guards until his last breath,
The red silk ribbon still gently tied around his neck,
Quietly, peacefully, remains.
