狼雕像

文/翼华

在离小木屋不远的地方

高过草尖的位置

立着一尊狼的雕像

高昂的头颅，仰望天空

疯狂的野草漫过基座

风从这里吹向旷野

夕阳沉落时

狼王格林悄悄靠近

风，悄悄缩在八瓣梅的花蕊上

格林默默围着雕像

一遍遍嗅着

时尔，舌尖轻轻舔着

雕像凝着它的孩子的骨血

藏着妈妈未干的泪

格林静静卧在雕像旁边

夜色遮掩尘世

它和雕像一起昂首

望着夜空，晶亮的星辰

比它的眼睛还要寂寞

        2026年2月23日

The Wolf Statue

By Yi Hua

Not far from the wooden cabin,

just above the tips of the grass,

stands a statue of a wolf.

Its head held high,

it gazes up at the sky.

Wild grass runs rampant over its base.

Wind blows from here toward the wilderness.

As the sun sinks low,

the wolf king Green approaches quietly.

The wind shrinks softly into the stamens of eight-petaled plum blossoms.

Green circles the statue in silence,

sniffing it again and again.

Now and then, its tongue gently licks.

The statue holds the bones and blood of its cub,

and hides the mother’s unshed tears.

Green lies quietly beside the statue.

Night shrouds the mortal world.

It raises its head together with the statue,

gazing at the bright stars in the night sky—

lonelier than its eyes.

February 23, 2026