《泥焰》

旋转的陶土突然有了心跳,
指腹与粗粝对话时,
整个下午开始柔软。

误入掌纹的曲线,
是未被驯服的河流,
还是雏鸟初展的翅痕?

我们俯身如考古者,
却掘出未来的器皿——
它盛着光的釉,
与未说尽的,
陶土的欢愉。

“Clay Flame”

The spinning clay suddenly pulses—
fingertips conversing with roughness
as the whole afternoon grows tender.

Those curves straying into palm lines—
are they untamed rivers,
or the first stretch of a fledgling’s wings?

We bend like archaeologists
yet unearth vessels of the future—
glazed with light,
filled with the unsung joy
of earth.


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