隆冬腊月后,满眼散落的是凋零,唯有那一支黄色蜡梅还傲然枝头开得正欢。我不知道是什么力量催发着它们在如此严寒的季节里还摆出如此使人陶醉的盛宴。一粒冰冷的露珠从枝头滑落,停在我的鼻上,我一下子嗅出了那蜡梅的意蕴,是不屈不挠的坚强。他们把热情尽情释放,揉碎在这个干冷的冬季。 After the twelfth lunar month of winter, all the eyes scattered and withered, only the yellow waxy plum blossomed proudly. I don’t know what power is urging them to perform such a feasting feast in such a cold season. A cold dewdrop slipped from the branch and stopped on my nose. I sniffed at once the connotation of the waxy plum, which was indomitable and strong. They unleashed their enthusiasm and crushed them in this cold winter.