Wizened describes something — usually a person, a face, or a piece of fruit — that has dried out and shrunk with age, so the skin has gone thin and covered in deep lines. The picture behind the word is a grape turning into a raisin: the water leaves, the size drops, the surface folds. It is not just "old" and it is not just "wrinkled". A person can be very old with a smooth full face, and that face is not wizened. Wizened needs the shrinking as well: the cheeks fallen in, the hands small and bony, the whole person somehow smaller than they used to be. This is a book word, not a talking word. You will meet it in stories much more often than you will hear it in a shop or an office, and it usually comes right before a noun — a wizened old man, a wizened face, a wizened little apple at the back of the fridge. In writing it often carries a small warm feeling as well: the wizened old woman in a story is often the one who knows things. But it can also sound unkind if you say it about a real person to their face, because you are pointing at their body drying up. Teachers, though, should know it works on plants too: leaves and fruit that lose water go wizened, and there is a verb wizen for that drying-and-shrinking, though almost nobody uses the verb any more. The adjective is what survived.

乾癟的、皺縮的（像葡萄乾那樣，又乾又縮、滿是皺紋）