A Year-End Walk in the Mountains 年末山行記

A Year-End Walk in the Mountains

The chill of winter’s breath sweeps over the ridges, scattering the lingering traces of autumn from the wooded slopes. Alone, I tread these winding paths, staff in hand, attuned to the pulse of the turning seasons. The year draws to its close; time, like a river, rushes ever onward. As I cast my gaze backward over the path I have walked, it seems no different from the mountain trails before me—twisting, undulating, yet each bend revealing its own quiet beauty.

The brook that meanders through the vale has stilled, its surface now veiled by a thin crust of frost, as though time itself has paused to rest. In the distance, pines stand steadfast, their verdant branches defying the onslaught of winter’s gales. The wind carries with it a plaintive melody, yet beneath its mournful strain lies a profound serenity. I halt by the stream, watching its crystalline waters mirror the fading light of the heavens, and in their tranquil flow, my own thoughts find peace.

Through the course of this year, I have shared laughter with friends, moments of mirth and communion; I have also stood alone atop lofty peaks, contemplating the vastness before me. Joy and sorrow, union and parting—all drift past like the water before me, carried away on the current of time. Life’s trials and its delights are but the seasons’ warm and cold embraces: distinct in flavor, yet ultimately subsumed by quiet equilibrium. I am reminded of an ancient adage: “Do not lament the waning light, for the evening sky yet glows with splendid hues.” Though the year’s twilight descends, untold vistas still await, ripe for discovery.

As the day fades, the setting sun stains the clouds with crimson, and the shadow of the mountains deepens into dusk. My steps are slow, the rustling of fallen leaves beneath my feet a gentle requiem for the passing year. A thought strikes me then—if a year may be likened to a mountain, then the view from its summit should not evoke regret but rather a quiet admiration for the journey undertaken and the resolve to climb higher still.

Night envelops the forest at last, and the moon ascends among the boughs, scattering its silver light upon the trails. I lift my eyes to the starlit sky, and in that celestial expanse, a calm resignation stirs within me: the mountains speak not of years gone by, the waters reckon not their age. Why then should we linger so intently upon the past? The road ahead lies yet untraveled, awaiting the measure of our steps.

And so, as the hour grows late, my heart mirrors the mountain’s moon—luminous and serene. Perhaps this is the essence of the year’s end: to reflect upon what has passed, to mourn and rejoice in equal measure, yet to face forward, eager to scale the peaks of the year to come.

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年末山行記

寒風吹過山巒，帶著入冬特有的冷冽，驅散了山林間殘留的最後一絲秋意。我攜杖獨行，步履於山徑間，感受四季流轉的脈搏。一年將盡，歲月如川，回首走過的路，竟與山間的小徑別無二致——蜿蜒曲折，有高有低，卻自成一景。

山間的溪流已不再湍急，水面覆上一層薄霜，彷彿時間在此刻凝結。遠處蒼松挺立，縱使寒風肆虐，依舊枝葉不墜，風中似有蕭瑟之聲，卻更多了一份沉靜。我停步於溪畔，望著澄澈的水流倒映出漸暗的天光，內心的感慨亦如水般平和。

一年之中，我曾與朋友相聚，共話歡笑；也曾孤身登高，對景感懷。喜與悲，聚與散，都如眼前流淌的溪水，隨時光漂流而去。人生的困頓與愉悅，正如四時的寒暑，雖各有滋味，但終會歸於平淡。我不禁想起古人言：「莫道桑榆晚，為霞尚滿天。」雖然歲暮將至，生活卻仍有未盡的風光等待發掘。

日暮之時，天邊殘陽染紅了雲層，山影漸漸沉入暮色中。我扶杖緩行，腳下的枯葉被壓出沙沙聲響，仿佛為這即將結束的歲月送行。忽而，我想，若將一年視為一座山，那麼登頂時的回首，不該只是怅然，而應是對自己旅途的欣賞與肯定。

夜色終於籠罩山林，月光攀上枝頭，將淡銀的光撒滿山路。我抬頭望向繁星點點，內心忽有一種釋然的感覺：山不言歲月，水不計年華，我們何必為了年終的過往過於執念？未來的路，還待腳步去丈量。

寫至此，已夜深，但心中已如山中月，清明寧靜。或許，這正是年末應有的感受：回望過往，感懷得失，卻依然懷著期待，向著新一年的山巔行去。