The Sun, a Cold Eye Witness // 太阳，冷眼见证者

I stood there, a fragile figure on a field of dust, where cities once pulsed with life and trust. My chipped rim, now a testament to hands that had grown cold, had once cradled warmth and stories untold.

我站在那里，一个脆弱的身影，置身于尘土飞扬的旷野，那里曾经的城市充满了生命和信任。我的破损边缘，如今成了手已冰冷的见证，曾经承载着温暖和未曾诉说的故事。

I remember the laughter, the clinking of spoons, as mornings bloomed with the scent of sweet promises. Steam would rise, carrying whispered dreams shared over tea by the gentle gleam of firelight.

我记得笑声，勺子的碰撞声，清晨在甜美的诺言中盛开。蒸汽升起，携带着在茶香中与火光柔和辉映下分享的低语梦想。

Delicate fingers once traced my floral design, revealing a world of color where butterflies entwined. Now, my faded hues spoke of a forgotten grace, a silent language in this desolate place.

细腻的手指曾勾勒我的花卉图案，展现出一个色彩斑斓的世界，蝴蝶缠绕其中。如今，我褪色的色调诉说着被遗忘的优雅，在这片荒凉之地是一种无声的语言。

The wind whispered secrets through empty streets, where towering structures and concrete sheets wound. No echoes bounced, no footsteps broke the hush; only silence reigned, a solitary crush.

风通过空旷的街道低语，穿过高耸的建筑和混凝土的片片。没有回声，没有脚步打破寂静；只有沉默统治，孤独地压迫着。

I yearned for the clink, the gentle kiss of a saucer, for lips that pressed, for moments filled with bliss. But the sun remained a cold, indifferent eye, witnessing the death of a world gone by.

我渴望那碰撞的声音，碟子的轻吻，唇的轻触，那充满幸福的时刻。但太阳依旧是冷漠的眼睛，见证着一个逝去世界的死亡。

Perhaps one day, on a journey yet unknown, another hand would find me, standing all alone. Would they see the whispers etched within my form, a fragile being weathering a forgotten storm?

也许有一天，在未知的旅程中，另一只手会找到我，独自伫立。他们会看到我形态中刻下的低语吗，一个脆弱的存在在遗忘的风暴中坚守？

Or would I crumble, dust upon the breeze, a final exhale beneath ancient trees? My purpose faded, a memory in the air?

还是我会崩塌，化作微风中的尘埃，在古老的树下做最后的叹息？我的目的消散在空气中？

A silent, lonely prayer.

一声无声的，孤独的祈祷。

Original poem by me.
Also posted on my steemit blog (@ ttblogger)