English translation (AI-generated)
The blank tab is like a field of snow;
the cursor drifts in the middle of the screen,
like a wild goose reluctant to land.
A title is typed, then quietly erased.
Words line up in a long queue at my fingertips,
yet the place at the head stays empty.
The wind outside is very light,
the leaves playing with light and shadow on the branches,
turning away, page by page, the time that is not mine.
19 April 2026, in Los Angeles
空白标签页如一片雪原
光标在屏中央游移
像一只迟迟不愿落脚的大雁
标题敲下又被悄然抹去
词语在指尖排起了长队
领头的位置依然空空如也
窗外的风很轻
树叶在枝头摆弄光影
翻走一片片不属于我的时间
2026年4月19日于洛杉矶
