岁末,照例有许多贺年片飞来飞去,像候鸟一样。飞向我的鸟儿,身上披着五彩缤纷的羽毛,还有无数的祝愿;从我手上飞走的鸟儿,却是小小一袭素羽,里面的话也简单,千篇一律,写的是:明月松间照,清泉石上流。我的鸟儿太朴素,既不富贵气也不现代派。我让它就这样飞向你,愿你明白这一种真挚。我想了很久,该在那洁白的羽毛上抹上什么颜色?那么多的朋友,不同的亲疏,不同的期待与理解,我写什么呢? As of the end of the year, as usual, many New Year’s films flew like migratory birds. Flying to my birds, dressed in colorful feathers, there are numerous wishes; birds flying away from my hand, but it is a small plume, which is also simple words, stereotyped, is written: Ming Yue Song according to Chingchuankuan high. My bird is too simple, neither rich nor modern. I let it fly to you, I hope you understand this kind of sincere. I think for a long time, what color should I put on that white feather? What about my friends, different relatives and different expectations and understandings?