木屋的爪痕
文/翼華
空寂的草原，那座空寂的小木屋
一把銹蝕的鐵鎖
鎖住溫暖的氣味和懷抱
白天的網(wǎng)，找不見出口
只有風(fēng)高的夜晚
所有的星辰緘默不語
狼王格林，那雙被柔韌的草
磨礪的爪子，像刀刺
在木屋刻下深深的印痕
它多想撕開，那扇冷漠的門
撕開瀝青澆灌的夜幕
那印在木屋的清晰的爪痕
讓白天的太陽
不敢直視凝固的悲愴
2026年2月7日
Claw Marks on the Log Cabin
by Yi Hua
On the empty grassland, that empty log cabin
A rusted iron lock
Traps the scent of warmth and embrace
The web of daylight finds no way out
Only on windy nights
When all stars fall silent
Grey Wolf Green, his paws
Toughened by supple grass, like blades
Carve deep marks into the cabin
He longs to tear open
That cold, indifferent door
To rip apart the night sky sealed with asphalt
Those clear claw marks on the log cabin
Make the sun at daytime
Dare not stare directly
At the frozen sorrow
