古典的雨滴

 


文/安然

古典的雨滴在涤纶布上敲响密集的战鼓，冷暖气流空中列阵，霎时间，战车追逐，气旋浩荡。
刚铺展开的生命，细腰绿裙，头戴晶莹的珠钿站在水殿忘情的摇曳。
绒球一般的麻雀溃散如流民，
一头扎进岸边苍翠的背景板里，
它们是四季交响中
不变的颤音。

去岁栽倒的莲蓬心有余悸，
撑着自家那条乌篷船，
泛舟余生的江湖。

偶尔抬起干瘪的头颅，
撞见两对黑褐色的羽翼拼命拍打着细雨。
肥硕的鸭身，
一前一后，
斜斜飞入楚国君臣张皇逃窜的梦里。
雷声从湖面滚过，
雨更大了。

在水边，
一只白鹭
飞得比时光还慢，
祝祷总像一行飘摇的诗。

 

 

 

Classical Raindrops

By An Ran

Classical raindrops beat a dense war drum upon the polyester fabric, Cold and warm air currents mass their troops in the midair. In an instant, chariots give chase, and cyclones surge with majesty. The newly unfurled life, with a slender waist and green skirt, Stands in the water palace, swaying in utter abandon, crowned with translucent pearl hairpins.

Sparrows, like tufts of fluff, scatter like refugees, Plunging headlong into the verdant backdrop of the shore. They are the unchanging vibrato In the symphony of the four seasons.

The lotus seedpods that collapsed last year remain haunted by fear, Propping up their own little wupeng boats, To sail through the rivers and lakes of their remaining years.

Occasionally raising their withered heads, They catch sight of two pairs of dark brown wings desperately buffeting the drizzle. Plump, duck-like silhouettes, One after the other, Fly obliquely into the panicked, fleeing dreams of the Chu state’s monarch and ministers. Thunder rumbles across the lake's surface, The rain grows heavier.

By the water’s edge, An egret Flies even slower than time, A prayer always resembling a line of drifting poetry.