<p class="ql-block">《香樟树下的春日》</p><p class="ql-block">我们每次路过</p><p class="ql-block">总要在这里停驻</p><p class="ql-block">像翻开泛黄书页里的旧书签</p><p class="ql-block">香樟树静静地立在小园里</p><p class="ql-block">年轮在静谧中舒展纹路</p><p class="ql-block">一杯温热一杯微凉</p><p class="ql-block">咖啡氤氲着扑鼻的浓香</p><p class="ql-block">光影斜斜穿过枝叶缝隙</p><p class="ql-block">香樟叶洒落细碎金箔</p><p class="ql-block">空气温润阳光缱绻</p><p class="ql-block">连对话也慢了下来</p><p class="ql-block">你指着枝头轻语</p><p class="ql-block">去年此时也是落花如雨</p><p class="ql-block">我抬头望去</p><p class="ql-block">树叶摇曳</p><p class="ql-block">恰好一片香樟叶打着旋儿</p><p class="ql-block">飘落在地上</p><p class="ql-block">城市的轮廓不断更迭</p><p class="ql-block">街口的门牌换了又换</p><p class="ql-block">旧墙被新广告层层覆盖</p><p class="ql-block">唯有这棵树</p><p class="ql-block">固执地守护着</p><p class="ql-block">藏在树影里的往昔</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">翔翔</p><p class="ql-block">2025.4.28</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p> <p class="ql-block"><b>Spring Beneath the Camphor Tree</b></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:15px;">— One Step Garden, Shanghai</span></p><p class="ql-block">Each time we pass, we pause again,</p><p class="ql-block">as if some thread still ties us then.</p><p class="ql-block">Like fingers brushing pages worn,</p><p class="ql-block">we stop where something soft was torn.</p><p class="ql-block">The camphor stands with patient grace,</p><p class="ql-block">its roots sunk deep, its stillness place.</p><p class="ql-block">Two cups—one warm, the other cool,</p><p class="ql-block">the steam between us calm and full.</p><p class="ql-block">Light filters through the tender green,</p><p class="ql-block">and drifts like dust we've barely seen.</p><p class="ql-block">The golden flakes fall slow and wide,</p><p class="ql-block">like time exhaling from its side.</p><p class="ql-block">The air is damp, the sun is low,</p><p class="ql-block">our voices small, our gestures slow.</p><p class="ql-block">You point and whisper, “Just last year,</p><p class="ql-block">the flowers fell like this, right here.”</p><p class="ql-block">I lift my gaze—the branches sway,</p><p class="ql-block">a single leaf breaks loose midway.</p><p class="ql-block">It spins and drops without a sound,</p><p class="ql-block">and settles gently on the ground.</p><p class="ql-block">The city shifts, its face repaints,</p><p class="ql-block">new names, new walls, in borrowed saints.</p><p class="ql-block">But still this tree remains so clear,</p><p class="ql-block">and keeps what's left of us right here.</p><p class="ql-block">— Cynthia Wu</p><p class="ql-block">April 28, 2025</p>