【诗歌】春天的花诗歌：一朵花开了

一朵花的早晨

夜里，风也停了，虫子也睡了，花苞把门关得紧紧的，连一条细细的缝也没有留 / 它把自己裹成一只小小的拳头，怀里紧紧攥着一个梦，谁也不肯告诉 / 梦里有红，有黄，还有一点点说不清也道不明的香气 / 它不敢说出来，怕刚一开口，那个梦就轻轻地破了一个角

天还没有亮，露珠就赶来了，它一步一步爬上花苞，滴答滴答地敲门 / 露珠在耳边说，快醒醒呀快醒醒呀，太阳马上就要翻过那边的小山岗 / 露珠在耳边说，快醒醒呀快醒醒呀，蜜蜂们已经在花田里排好了长长的队伍 / 花苞揉了揉眼睛，憋了一整夜的笑意，差点从门缝里漏出来

花苞先伸了一个长长的懒腰，再小心翼翼地把门开出一条细细的缝 / 缝里露出一点点花瓣的颜色，像谁在黑暗里悄悄点亮了一盏小灯 / 花瓣一片一片地张开，像张开的小小手掌，接住了刚刚落下来的阳光 / 每一片花瓣都举着一小片阳光，举得高高的，生怕别人看不见 / 露珠顺着花瓣的边缘滑下来，一路滑一路笑，坐上了世界上最好的滑梯

风也赶过来数花瓣，一片、两片、三片，数到一半自己先笑了 / 风说，我数了一百年，也数不清一朵小花里到底藏着多少个春天 / 蝴蝶抄近路赶来，收拢彩色的翅膀，稳稳停在了最上面的那一片上 / 蜜蜂提着篮子来了，进进出出忙个不停，连招呼都来不及打一声 / 一朵花开了，春天就多了一封已经打开的信 / 读到这封信的人，都会停下脚步蹲下来，看一看，再笑一笑 / 那封信寄到了每一个蹲下来的人手里，人人读着都舍不得合上

The Morning of a Flower

All night the wind stopped and the insects slept, and the flower bud shut its door tight, not even leaving a thin crack / It wrapped itself into a little fist, holding a dream close to its chest, telling no one / The dream had red in it, and yellow, and a faint fragrance hard to name / It did not dare speak it out, afraid the dream would tear open at the first word

Before dawn the dewdrop hurried over, climbing step by step onto the bud, knocking tick-tick-tick / The dewdrop whispered by its ear, wake up, wake up, the sun is about to cross the little hill / The dewdrop whispered, wake up, wake up, the bees have already lined up long queues in the flower field / The bud rubbed its eyes, and the smile it had held all night nearly leaked through the door crack

The bud stretched a long lazy stretch, then carefully opened the door a thin crack / A hint of petal color showed through, like someone lighting a tiny lamp in the dark / Petal by petal they opened, like small hands opening, catching the sunlight that had just fallen / Every petal held up a small piece of sunlight, holding it high, afraid no one would see / The dewdrop slid down the edge of a petal, sliding and laughing, riding the best slide in the world

The wind came to count the petals, one, two, three, and laughed halfway through / The wind said, I have counted for a hundred years and still cannot count how many springs hide in one small flower / The butterfly flew in by a shortcut, folded its colorful wings, and landed on the topmost petal / The bee arrived with its basket, busy going in and out, too rushed to even say hello / One flower opened, and spring gained one letter already opened / Everyone who reads this letter stops, crouches down, takes a look, and smiles / That letter reaches the hands of everyone who crouches down, and no one wants to close it

我蹲下来看花开

清晨我早早来到花坛边，蹲下来的时候，蹲得比刚冒头的小草还要矮 / 那枚花苞一眼就认出了我，把脸红得更紧了一些，连手也攥得更紧了 / 露珠挂在它的睫毛上，一颗、两颗、三颗，亮得我不敢眨一下眼睛 / 我屏住呼吸替它数着，怕自己呼出的一口气，把露珠轻轻吹跑 / 草叶上的露珠比我起得还早，一颗一颗排着队，等着看这场开放

花瓣先松开了一只手，怯生生地朝我摆了摆，像打招呼 / 接着松开第二只手、第三只手，一只手比一只手张得更开 / 那样子像极了我们班同学举手回答问题，一个比一个举得高 / 我在心里悄悄给它加油，声音小得只有我自己一个人听得见

最后一片花瓣终于翻了过来，把藏了一整个冬天的话都说给太阳听 / 花心里小小的，像一间刚打扫干净的小房子，等着客人上门 / 露珠从花瓣上跳下来，落进松软的泥土里，去叫醒下一朵还在睡的花 / 蜜蜂闻讯赶来，一头钻进花心里，过了半天才探出头来，满脸都是黄粉 / 小黄粉像一枚小小的奖章，别在它的背上，它挺着肚子得意地飞走了

我站起来，膝盖上沾了两块泥，裤脚也湿了一大片，可我一点也不在意 / 我跑回家，把这件事认认真真写进了当天的日记，字写得比平时都大 / 我把它念给奶奶听，奶奶笑得眼睛弯成了月牙，说第二天带我去看第二朵 / 日记里那朵花一直开着，颜色一点也没有变 / 每天翻开日记，它就在我眼前重新开一次，连露珠都还在 / 花坛里的花一朵接着一朵地开，像一排高高举起来的手 / 我心里清楚，其中有一朵，是专门开给蹲下来的我的

I Crouched Down to Watch a Flower Bloom

Early in the morning I came to the flower bed, and when I crouched I was lower than the young grass just poking out / The bud recognized me at once, blushed a little tighter, and clenched its hands tighter too / Dewdrops hung on its eyelashes, one, two, three, so bright I did not dare blink / I held my breath and counted them for it, afraid my own breath would blow the dewdrops away / The dewdrops on the grass blades woke earlier than I did, lining up one by one, waiting to watch this opening

A petal loosened one hand first, waving at me shyly like a greeting / Then a second hand and a third opened, each wider than the one before / It looked just like my classmates raising hands to answer questions, each one higher than the last / I quietly cheered for it inside my heart, so softly that only I could hear

The last petal finally turned over and told the sun everything it had hidden all winter / The center of the flower was small, like a little room just cleaned, waiting for guests / A dewdrop jumped off the petal, landed in the soft soil, and went to wake the next sleeping flower / The bee came at once, dived into the flower heart, and poked its head out only after a long while, its face covered in yellow pollen / The yellow pollen sat on its back like a small medal, and it flew away proudly with its chest puffed out

I stood up with two patches of mud on my knees and wet trouser cuffs, and I did not mind at all / I ran home and wrote the whole thing carefully in my diary that day, in letters bigger than usual / I read it aloud to my grandma, and she smiled until her eyes curved like crescents, saying she would take me to see the second flower the next day / The flower in the diary has been blooming ever since, its color unchanged / Every day when I open the diary, it blooms again before my eyes, dewdrops and all / The flowers in the bed bloomed one after another, like a row of hands raised high / I know in my heart that one of them bloomed just for me, the one who crouched down