In the polar night, where snow and wind converge,
He speaks of truth that can be truly discerned.
Solitude fades as the aurora unfolds,
A solace found in the desolate worlds.
I am a flake, adrift on the gusts that sway,
He is a wanderer, with hopes that never decay.
On a journey lone, where even stars grow dim,
The aurora dreams, a vivid, absurd hymn.
Yet I was born to be a lonely traveler in the snow and wind,
The pain of the moonlit night is a mere foil to my existence.
Fragments of Leaves #118:
Snowflakes, Tundra, Polar Night
During the polar day, the sun is like a beacon which indefatigably hangs high in the sky, generously pouring endless radiance. The tundra shines as bright as daylight and seems glittering and resplendent. Gradually, the sun no longer stubbornly lingers in the sky. It gradually begins to slant westward. The daylight hours are shortening.
At first, it is just the arrival of sunset a little bit ahead of time. The evening glow on the horizon seems to be added a divine brushstroke, being splendid in color yet tinging with a touch of melancholy. As the days go by, the shadow of the night grows longer. The sun bids farewell to the sky early, leaving behind a gradually fading afterglow.
Finally, the long night enfolds everything.
Fragments of Leaves #118:
Snowflakes, Tundra, Polar Night
Pursuit, Aurora, Absurdity
This is not a dwelling for human and never has been. Has he got insane ?
You dance lightly in the wind. Then you seizes the moment, drifting down onto the brim of his hat. The thin layer of fluffy fur on the brim is so soft that you can feel the warmth, though faint but affectious, emanating from him. So unique that seems in this biting cold environment.
What is he doing? This is not a place for humans to stay; he will die.
The fierce wind howls, flapping his clothes wildly, and snowflakes scatter chaotically around him. You lie quietly on the brim of his hat, trembling slightly with his steps.He sits on the snow, taking out a few photos from his pocket close to him. These photos are somewhat old, with their corners slightly curled.
With the faint glow of the aurora, you can see that he and a girl are in the photo. That girl has a lovely and radiant smile. Her eyes are clear and bright, and her hair gently flutters in the breeze. He also has a big happy smile on his face. Joyfulness comes from the heart.
The wind blows quietly, and snowflakes gently fall on the photo. He carefully brushes them off, as if being afraid of disturbing that precious memory. After a long while, he slowly stands up and puts the photos back into his pocket close to him.
Where is he going?After walking for an unknown time, he arrives at an ice lake. At a leisurely pace, he walks to the edge of the ice lake. Each step he takes seems so heavy and slow. Then he squats down. His motions are filled with endless weariness and fatigue, but his eyes have never left the surface of the ice lake, staring at his reflection in the ice lake.
The person in the reflection has messy hair, as if it has been wantonly teased by the gale. His face is flushed red by the icy wind as if it were an apple cracked by the cold, on which each red mark tells the cruelty of the cold. His eyes are full of deep tireness and confusion, being unable to find a way out, and unable to see hope.
He reaches out. His hand slightly trembles in the cold wind and gently touches the ice surface. A chill spreads throughout his body the moment when his fingertip touches the ice. However, he seems to have no sensation, still persisting in touching, as if he wants to reach that mirror image and pulls out the illusory mirage, making it a real support and becoming a companion who can resist the endless loneliness and cold with him.
You just watch, silently.Fragments of Leaves #118:
Snowflakes, Tundra, Polar Night
Pursuit, Aurora, Absurdity
Cold Wind, Cold Moon, Getting Lost
The howling wind roars.The snowflakes cut like blades, and the vision is instantly swallowed by the white chaos. You, a snowflake, dances helplessly in the wind, trying to find him.
You desperately shuttles through the gale with all your might, but the power of the blizzard is far too strong, sweeping you wildly to an unknown direction. You are filled with anxiety, not knowing if he could be safe in this terrible storm.
The storm gradually subsides, and the world becomes quiet. But he is gone. You circles in the air, looking at the vast whiteness. He didn’t leave a trace behind.
You drifts in the breeze, floating far away. From one iceberg to another, from one valley to the other. The stars in the night sky twinkles, and the cold moonlight sprinkles on the snow. You wanders alone in this silent world, with an increasingly strong desire in your heart.
Why cling to a human?Fragments of Leaves #118:
Snowflakes, Tundra, Polar Night
Pursuit, Aurora, Absurdity
Cold Wind, Cold Moon, Getting Lost
Adrift, Self-Bound, Coffin
The wind howls, carrying a sharp and piercing, wailing and mournful howl, with a nearly frenzied posture, violently tearing everything around. The originally peaceful world is instantly turned upside down by this violent force.
Snowflakes, like a flood crushing the dike, pours down crazily, quickly bury his body. The chaotic and complicated snowflakes, one after another, one layer upon another, mercilessly piles up on his lifeless body. They are persistent and determined and build this silent, icy, lonely, and desolate resting place for him.
He lie there quietly, motionlessly, much the same as a solidified statue. His body gradually merges into this vast and boundless world, turning into a bleak and heart-wrenching silhouette under the raging wind and snow.
Wades through waters' space, now crosses mountains and hills.
How far must one journey, till the dust is unload,
Leaving but a few lines, hastily penned, nobody would know.
What atmosphere to craft, awaiting the world's will,
To face the stars' yielding act, or the call of snow?
Through myriad cycles, the soul has journeyed far alone.