The Warmth That Remains
余温

 

 

Even after seeing through something,
it does not immediately disappear.

 

即使已经看见了，

它也不会立刻消失。

 

 

The pattern may loosen,
but something remains.

​

结构可能松动了，

但总有一些还在。

​

A trace in the body.
A familiar tightening.
A tone that still carries weight.

 

身体里的痕迹。
熟悉的收紧。
某种仍有重量的语气。

 

 

Not as solid as before—
but not gone.

 

不再像从前那样真实，

但也没有离开。

 

 

 

 

There is often
a quiet question:

Should this be changed?

 

有时会有一个很轻的疑问：

要不要去改变它？

 

A subtle movement
to replace the old
with something new.

 

一种很细微的冲动，

想用新的经验
去替代旧的。

 

 

 

But something hesitates.

 

但某个地方
没有继续。

 

Not out of resistance.

Not out of fear.

 

不是抗拒，

也不是害怕。

 

 

 

More like—

the need to replace
is no longer so certain.

 

更像是：

“需要替代”这件事，

本身变得不那么确定了。

 

 

 

So the old is left untouched.

 

于是，

旧的没有被处理。

 

 

It appears,
lingers,
fades.

 

它出现，
停留，
又慢慢淡去。

 

 

Not because it was removed.

But because
it is no longer being continued.

 

不是因为它被清除，

而是因为
它没有再被延续。

 

 

 

The warmth remains for a while.

Like heat after a flame.

 

那一点余温，

还会存在一段时间。

像火焰熄灭之后的温度。

 

 

And then,
without effort,

even that
is gone.

 

然后，

没有任何动作，

它也会消散。