The calendar has gently closed the broken-cornered wooden gate
With the approaching Chinese New Year
The man-eating monster is snoring with a whistle

A smile like a tung tree blooms on Grandma’s face
In harmony with the sound of brewing tea
She has dropped ashes all over the ground, dropped
A poem more magnificent than the snowfall
With enchanting blossoming petals

Winter’s passion is also wildly burning
On this bleary-eyed morning
The blizzard has occupied my hometown’s last territory

The kitchen door has just been set ajar     at the sound
Finches approach over the crisscrossing paths of the countryside
Mid-afternoon snow is falling louder and louder
And the stove fire burns hotter and hotter
With smoke sweeping out a whitish trail in the firmament…

Oh the paths that are newer the more they are trodden
Are trembling with joy while clinging to the earth
At this very moment