小诗

It was a day as fresh as grass growing up and clouds going over and butterflies coming down can make it. It was a day compounded from silences of bee and flower and ocean and land, which were not silences at all, but motions, stirs, flutters, risings, fallings, each in its own time and matchless rhythm.

这天，清新如嫩草长，柔云飘，彩蝶舞。

这天，蜂停花伫海平陆静。

但这一切，

并非静谧无边。

蜂蝶拍翅之微动，

海潮涨落之翻涌，

万物都在自己的韵律中生生不息。