搬到法國轉眼已經三年，
心境也像四季一樣，換了幾次顏色。
我站在塞納河的新橋上，
看著月亮再次豐盈了起來，
中秋，又要來了。
人有悲歡離合，
月有陰晴圓缺，
此事古難全。
古人筆下的鄉愁，
隔了千年投影在巴黎聖母院的夜空。
從小讀過的詩句，
那種離人的靜默與圓缺的溫柔，
此刻在我胸中慢慢暈染。
但月，從未真正殘缺，
那不過太陽的光角與人的視角使然。
月，始終完整，
只是我們看不清它的全貌。
人也是如此。
別人眼中的我，有時殘、有時滿；
有時耀眼，有時晦暗。
但那只是他們的觀點，
不是我的本質，
如同月亮的缺口，只在他人的眼裡。
無論他人評價，
我依然繞著我的軌道行走，
靜靜發光，
一個完整的自己，從未殘缺。
Three years since moving to Paris.
My inner seasons have shifted —
colors changing like leaves in wind.
Tonight, I stand on the Pont Neuf,
watching the moon swell once again.
Mid-Autumn is near.
“Joy and sorrow,
parting and reunion —
the moon waxes and wanes.
Such is life.”
The ancient verses
I once memorized as a child
float across the sky above Notre-Dame.
Centuries and continents away,
they find me still.
But the moon is never truly broken.
Its shape only seems to change —
a curve of light,
a shift of view.
The moon remains whole,
even when it hides from you.
So are we.
In the eyes of others, I am sometimes full,
sometimes fading,
sometimes bright,
sometimes barely there.
But their vision does not define me.
Their light does not cast my shadow.
I continue on my orbit,
not to please the gaze of others,
but because it is who I am —
a self in motion,
a wholeness unseen.
Ayïma 阿儀瑪 