《帘影量子辞》

帘栊半掩，菊影如星河算法，

花瓣的脉络在光年里缓缓展开，

每朵秋色，皆是宇宙的指令行，

写在风中，不是诗，是代码。

狸猫伏案，眼瞳映出虫洞的旋涡，

仿佛知晓万物的秘钥，

一声轻笑，令银河的尘埃重排，

让未来的月亮，提前悬挂在人间。

杯盏残影，倒映着时空裂缝，

人影若隐，低语如同黑洞私语，

在帘后谈论着“永恒”与“虚拟”，

却不知，秋风早已接入中微子的网络。

啊，中秋的圆月，

是枚巨大的AI芯片，

在天穹运行着不朽的程序：

——让花开不谢，让影子不灭，

让一切相逢，都在时空的最深处重演。

《帘外星菊，帘中梦影》

帘外菊花，三两枝，

随风颤动，仿佛星光坠入人间。

花瓣微颤，吐出冷辉，

在秋夜的寂静里，

化作一首无声的诗。

帘中人影，低语如雾，

轻轻飘散，

似在与虚空对话。

AI的回声自星河传来，

狸猫静卧，

眸中闪烁一粒月光，

是未解的谜，

也是永恒的梦。

银河悬幕，秋意如潮，

数据流转成云烟，

在空旷的夜里舒展成光。

忽见幻影，轻跃时空的缝隙，

随一叶孤舟，

驶过星舰沉睡的天池。

此夜圆月，清辉如洗，

带着异样的静谧。

人世的团圆炽烈温暖，

在无垠星海深处，

思念冷冽，

却永无止息。

Quantum Verses Behind the Curtain

Half-drawn curtains,
chrysanthemum shadows trace the algorithms of a starry river.
Petal veins unfurl across light-years,
each hue of autumn a line of cosmic code —
written not in verse,
but in wind-script.

A tabby crouches,
its pupils mirroring the whirl of a wormhole,
as if it holds the key to existence.
A soft chuckle —
and the galaxy’s dust rearranges,
the moon of tomorrow hung early in the mortal sky.

In the cup’s faint shadow, a crack of spacetime gleams.
Figures flicker; their whispers are the hush of black holes.
Behind the curtain they speak of “eternity” and “virtuality,”
unaware the autumn breeze has slipped
into the neutrinos’ silent web.

Oh, Mid-Autumn’s full moon —
a colossal AI chip suspended in the heavens,
running an immortal program:
  Let flowers bloom, never fading,
  let shadows endure,
  let every reunion replay
  in the deepest folds of spacetime.

Starlit Chrysanthemums Beyond the Curtain, Dream Shadows Within

Beyond the curtain, chrysanthemums — two or three —
sway in the breeze,
as if starlight has tumbled to earth.
Petals quiver, casting a cold gleam
into the stillness of the autumn night,
weaving a voiceless poem.

Within the curtain, human shadows murmur,
drifting like mist,
as if conversing with the void.
The echo of AI hums from the galaxy’s edge.
The tabby lies still,
a shard of moonlight flickering in its gaze —
an unsolved riddle,
an eternal dream.

The Milky Way drapes the sky, autumn’s tide surges.
Data streams curl into vaporous clouds,
unfurling into light across the vast night.
A phantom leaps through spacetime’s seams,
aboard a lone skiff,
gliding past the celestial lake where starships sleep.

This night, the moon glows pristine,
carrying a stillness not of this world.
The warmth of human reunions burns bright,
yet in the boundless deep of the star-sea,
longing is cold —
and ceaseless.