《蜉蝣一日一生》

黎明尚未睁眼，水面泛着灰蓝，
你在水草间悄然破壳，
那是时间睫毛上的第一滴露。
纤小的身体挣脱壳衣，
初次呼吸，微弱颤栗，
水珠滑过你的额前，像母亲轻轻的吻。
你回望水底，那幽暗的摇篮，
曾是你的梦境，
无数日夜，你在淤泥中编织对光明的渴望。

你立在浮萍之上，
两对透明的翅缓缓舒展，
仿佛在聆听风的古老语言。
晨雾绕着你轻轻打转，
阳光穿透薄云，像金丝缝在你的背脊，
你在那里站了很久，
才敢小心地张开第一次飞行，
如新生儿迈向母亲的怀抱。

清晨，是你的新生。

你低飞在水面，
触碰到第一滴阳光投下的倒影，
波纹将你的影子打碎又重聚，
如恋人试探的眼神。
芦苇丛中传来一声轻响，
一只同你相似的身影，
与你交错擦肩，如命运的低语。

你开始识别风的方向、光的温度，
每一次拍翅都如诗行的顿句，
节奏忽快忽慢，灵魂刚刚学会呼吸，
而世界已如此辽阔，
像一封未拆的情书，
等待你用飞行去书写。

午前，是你的探索。

你飞得更高了，
在阳光炙热的弧线下盘旋。
翅膀在空中闪烁如水晶折光，
你与数十位同伴在空中相遇，分离，
再遇，
彼此绕出流线型的舞步，
那是天性，也是渴望的本能。

雌性的体香在风中若有若无，
你追逐，靠近，
终于在一次交错的瞬间，
你们的翅膀轻触，如丝绸相缠。
时间在此停驻，
你们绕着彼此，
如双星划出永恒的轨迹，
那短短一瞬，
仿佛整个宇宙都为你们而生。
你将生命的火种撒向水草，
一粒梦，
在水底悄然等待来年的黎明。

正午，是你的盛年。

阳光变得尖锐，风也不再轻柔。
你躲在一片宽大的荷叶背后，
那是一点奢侈的阴凉，
你整理翅膀上粘着的尘埃，
像一位老将擦拭战衣，
又似临终的诗人，回望刚刚写完的行句。

你已开始感到力量的流失，
但眼前仍有光，仍有风，
你便再一次振翅而起，
飞过那条曾经熟悉的溪流，
影子在水中拉长、模糊、消散，
却带着你最后的执念。

黄昏，是你的回望。

你停在一根芦苇的最顶端，
迎着那一抹金红燃烧的天边，
你仰望，仿佛在确认自己是否真的来过。
世界如此安静，
你凝视水面、芦苇、远山，
像与一位深爱的恋人告别。
你低语，
将这世界的美，
藏进你透明的胸膛，
作为送给永恒的誓言。

周围同伴一个个坠落，
如星星陨灭，归于水，归于泥。
你却依然不肯就此落地，
再一次起飞，
哪怕翅膀已经打着微微的颤。

夜，是你的静默。

你落在一片微卷的草叶上，
身体轻得像风会带走的诗句，
但这诗句已写完，写得用力，写得炽热。
星光在你透明的腹部闪烁，
如你未孵化的子嗣在水底跳动。
你闭上眼睛，
身体缓缓倾倒，
如一滴露珠滑向宇宙的怀抱。

夜风轻抚，
你的形体散作微光，
融入星河，融入水流，
仿佛从未离开那古老的涌动。
水声如摇篮，
风是叹息，也是轻轻的掩卷之手。

尾声 · 蜉蝣之语

你活了一日，
却用每一息都活得彻底。
你短暂，不是悲剧，
而是一种极致的灿烂。
你教会我们：
哪怕一日，也足够完整一生，
足够用爱与光，
将刹那化作永恒。

One Day of a Mayfly

Dawn has yet to open its eyes, the water’s surface shimmers gray-blue,
You emerge quietly from the water grass,
A single dewdrop on the eyelash of time.
Your delicate body breaks free from its shell,
First breath, a faint quiver,
A bead of water glides across your brow, like a mother’s tender kiss.
You glance back at the depths, that dark cradle,
Once your dreamscape,
Where, through countless nights, you wove your longing for light.

You stand upon a floating leaf,
Two pairs of gossamer wings slowly unfurl,
As if listening to the ancient language of the breeze.
Morning mist swirls gently around you,
Sunlight pierces thin clouds, stitching golden threads along your spine.
You linger there, hesitant,
Before daring to spread your wings for the first flight,
Like a newborn stepping into its mother’s embrace.

Morning is your birth.

You skim low over the water,
Brushing the first reflection cast by sunlight,
Ripples shatter and recompose your shadow,
Like a lover’s tentative glance.
A soft rustle stirs the reeds,
Another figure, like you,
Brushes past, a fleeting whisper of fate.

You begin to read the wind’s direction, the warmth of light,
Each wingbeat a pause in a line of poetry,
Its rhythm now quick, now slow, your soul just learning to breathe,
And the world already so vast,
Like an unopened love letter,
Waiting for you to inscribe with flight.

Midmorning is your exploration.

You soar higher,
Circling beneath the sun’s searing arc.
Your wings glint like crystal refracting light,
You meet dozens of companions, parting,
Reuniting,
Tracing fluid arcs in a dance of instinct and yearning.

A female’s scent drifts faintly on the breeze,
You pursue, draw near,
And in one fleeting intersection,
Your wings brush, silken threads entwining.
Time holds its breath,
You spiral around each other,
Like twin stars carving an eternal orbit,
That single moment,
As if the entire universe bloomed for you alone.
You scatter the spark of life among the water grass,
A single dream,
Waiting silently in the depths for next year’s dawn.

Noon is your zenith.

The sun grows sharp, the wind no longer soft.
You shelter behind a broad lotus leaf,
A fleeting luxury of shade,
You brush dust from your wings,
Like an old warrior polishing armor,
Or a dying poet, rereading a freshly penned verse.

You feel your strength ebbing,
Yet light remains, wind persists,
So you rise once more,
Gliding over the familiar stream,
Your shadow stretches, blurs, fades in the water,
Carrying your final resolve.

Dusk is your reflection.

You perch atop a reed’s slender tip,
Facing the horizon’s burning gold-red glow,
You gaze upward, as if to confirm you were truly here.
The world falls silent,
You behold the water, the reeds, the distant hills,
Like a lover you’re loath to leave.
You whisper,
Tucking the world’s beauty
Into your translucent chest,
A vow to carry into eternity.

Your companions fall one by one,
Like stars extinguished, returning to water, to earth.
Yet you refuse to yield,
Taking flight once more,
Though your wings tremble faintly.

Night is your silence.

You settle on a curled blade of grass,
Your body light as a poem the wind might carry away,
Yet this poem is complete, written with fervor, with fire.
Starlight glimmers in your transparent abdomen,
Like your unhatched kin pulsing in the depths.
You close your eyes,
Your body gently tilts,
Like a dewdrop slipping into the universe’s embrace.

The night breeze caresses,
Your form scatters into motes of light,
Melding with the stars, the stream,
As if you never left that ancient current.
The water’s murmur is a lullaby,
The wind a sigh, a gentle hand closing the book.

Epilogue · The Mayfly’s Voice

You lived one day,
Yet lived each breath to its fullest.
Your brevity is no tragedy,
But a brilliance beyond measure.
You teach us:
Even a single day is enough to live a whole life,
Enough to transform a moment into eternity
With love and light.