我永远难忘，那淡淡的，盛满温柔的紫色鸢尾，那时墨染天际，月光倾泻，洒于您的侧脸。
I will never forget that faint, gentle purple iris, when ink stained the sky and moonlight poured down on your profile.
故乡的歌，是一支清远的笛，总在有月亮的晚上响起。那海风柔柔的吹，您恬静的笑，便足够灿烂，我的整段岁月。
The song of hometown is a clear flute that always plays on moonlit nights. The gentle breeze of the sea, your peaceful smile, is bright enough for my entire life.
家乡的风是有滋味的，蕴着淡淡的愁，海风带来微微的腥与她紧牵着我的手时，心中梗塞的酸苦。五月，鸢尾草长，有着海风温柔的味道。上地理课时打开图册，目光不自觉的落到家乡的位置。窗外风柔和地吹，使我不由得心绪纷飞，飘去了远方的海。
The wind in my hometown has a taste, containing a faint sadness. The sea breeze brings a slight fishy smell, and when she tightly holds my hand, the bitterness in my heart is suffocating. In May, irises grow and have a gentle taste of sea breeze. Opening the map book during geography class, one's gaze involuntarily falls on the location of their hometown. The gentle breeze outside the window made my emotions flutter and drift to the distant sea.
小时候总是一回湛江便闹着要去看海。我喜欢海风拂动发丝的滋味，喜欢听海螺里悠长的回响。外婆总是与我一起光着脚在沙滩上，挽起裤脚踏起朵朵浪花。上次暑假回去，她便提议和我去海边玩，顺便把织好的渔网卖给海边的渔民。我欣然答应，外婆紧牵着我的手，像小时候带我在城里过马路一般，紧紧地攥着。我们来到海边，她去把渔网给渔民。我看着她瘦弱如蝉翼般的身子在沙滩上缓缓移动。恍惚认出了那件衣服外婆穿了几年了，淡紫色，洗得有些褪色了。海风隆起她的裤脚，像竹竿般瘦弱的腿若隐若现的出现轮廓。一步又一步我随着他的脚印往前走。看身后那夕阳，不舍得把她的背影拉长。
When I was a child, I would always make a fuss about going to Zhanjiang to see the sea. I like the feeling of the sea breeze brushing my hair and listening to the long echoes in the sea snails. My grandmother always walks barefoot with me on the beach, rolling up her pants and stepping on waves. Last summer vacation, she suggested going to the beach with me and selling the woven fishing nets to the fishermen by the seaside. I gladly agreed, and my grandmother held my hand tightly, as if she had taken me across the street in the city when I was a child, holding it tightly. We arrived at the seaside and she went to give the fishing nets to the fishermen. I watched her thin and frail body slowly move on the beach like cicada wings. I vaguely recognized the clothes that my grandmother had been wearing for several years. They were light purple and had faded a bit after washing. The sea breeze lifted the hem of her pants, revealing the silhouette of her slender legs like bamboo poles. Step by step, I followed his footsteps forward. Looking at the sunset behind her, I couldn't bear to elongate her silhouette.
心中泛起别样的滋味，淡淡的，腥腥的，涩得让我的泪水忍不住落下。只见她把渔网给了渔民，便转身向我小步跑来。我擦干眼角的泪，笑着问，怎么还穿这件衣服洗的都褪色了。外婆笑着说她喜欢这个颜色，外公也喜欢。淡紫色多素静，做人嘛，穿的干净质朴就好。望着她的笑容，如孩子般质朴而灿烂，银发却被风纷纷吹起，如蝶般在空中飞扬。
A different flavor arose in my heart, faint, fishy, astringent, making my tears uncontrollably fall. I saw her give the fishing net to the fishermen, then turn around and take small steps towards me. I wiped away the tears from the corners of my eyes and asked with a smile, why is this piece of clothing still fading after washing. Grandma smiled and said she likes this color, and Grandpa also likes it. Light purple is mostly plain and quiet. As for being a person, just wear clean and simple clothes. Looking at her smile, simple and radiant like a child, her silver hair was blown by the wind and fluttered in the air like a butterfly.
淡紫色，鸢尾花的颜色。
Light purple, the color of iris flowers.
她临走前那晚，我们搬着板凳在院里闲聊。外婆的手仍然闲不下来，还织着渔网。她将网织得紧密，将那晚的风，万千星辰和对外公的思念织了进去，指尖，眼里，映着乡间夜空的星光。淡淡的恬静与温柔涌上心头。风吹过发梢，却品出了即将离别的苦涩。以前外公是渔民，她便在一旁织网，她讲了好多好多的回忆。星光洒入她的眼中看见她眼里说不完的往事，她的眼角中有泪光在闪烁着。她顿了顿，说，网要一步一步织，不能急。做人也要踏踏实实，别被风迷了方向。
The night before she left, we were chatting in the courtyard with benches. Grandma's hands are still busy, still weaving fishing nets. She weaved the net tightly, weaving in the wind of that night, countless stars, and longing for her father-in-law. Her fingertips and eyes reflected the starlight of the rural night sky. A faint tranquility and tenderness surged in my heart. The wind blows through my hair, but I feel the bitterness of parting soon. My grandfather used to be a fisherman, so she weaved a net beside me and shared many, many memories. Starlight shone into her eyes, and she saw endless memories in her eyes. Tears flickered in the corners of her eyes. She paused and said, 'The net needs to be woven step by step, not in a hurry.'. Being a person also requires being down-to-earth and not being lost in direction by the wind.
鸢尾花花语象征着美好事物容易消逝，象征着一切纯净与美好。她珍惜着那淡紫色的衣服，珍藏着外公那段美好的回忆，不想让它随风逝去。而我何尝不想留住您，让时间的脚步慢一点，再慢一点。留住那海风盛着的温柔，留住一切美好的事物，留住您。
The language of iris symbolizes that beautiful things are easy to fade away, symbolizing all purity and beauty. She cherished the light purple clothes and cherished the beautiful memories of her grandfather, not wanting them to fade away with the wind. And I don't want to keep you, to slow down the pace of time, even slower. Keep the tenderness of the sea breeze, keep all the beautiful things, keep you.
故乡的歌，是一支清远的笛，总在有月亮的晚上响起。我在失眠时望着那温柔的月亮，回忆起那故乡淡淡的海风，看那紫色的鸢尾花瓣在月光下摇曳。
The song of hometown is a clear flute that always plays on moonlit nights. I look at the gentle moon during insomnia, recalling the faint sea breeze of my hometown, and watching the purple iris petals sway in the moonlight.
您抬头，只是恬静的笑。便温暖了我整段奔跑的岁月。
You look up, just a peaceful smile. It warmed my entire running years.
可我知道，时光不会为了谁而停留，鸢尾花盛开后也会凋零。
But I know that time doesn't stop for anyone, and even irises will wither after they bloom.
我在时间的长河中踱步，捡起一块块碎片，那些如月色般温柔的回忆，在脑海里不断浮现，各种滋味交织着向我奔来。一个声音告诉我，要珍惜眼前灿烂的景，灿烂的人，还有那些被风带走的拾起来会发光的岁月。
I paced in the river of time, picking up fragments. Those gentle memories like the moon kept appearing in my mind, and various flavors intertwined and ran towards me. A voice told me to cherish the brilliant scenery, people, and the years that will shine when picked up by the wind.
我思念着故乡，和您。
I miss my hometown and you.
起风了，风过树梢，叶片哗啦啦的响。
The wind is rising, blowing over the treetops with the rustling of leaves.
正逢清明，外婆的墓前又多了一束鸢尾花……
On Qingming Festival, another bouquet of irises appeared in front of my grandmother's grave