
Before Dawn 天亮以前
As if the answer had once bent close, with time to write only half a stroke, before it vanished before the break of day. 仿佛答案曾经俯身靠近,只来得及写下半条笔画,便消失在天亮以前。

As if the answer had once bent close, with time to write only half a stroke, before it vanished before the break of day. 仿佛答案曾经俯身靠近,只来得及写下半条笔画,便消失在天亮以前。

Walking through the mist is like walking into a dream not yet awake. 走在雾里,像是走进一场尚未醒来的梦。

The blank tab is like a field of snow; the cursor drifts, like a wild goose reluctant to land. 空白标签页如一片雪原,光标游移,像一只迟迟不愿落脚的大雁。

The flow has not changed its pace, but the last grain will fall into no time at all. 流速未变,但最后一粒,不再落入任何时间。

The pitch-black sea is a road without footprints; I carry the lamp of my dreams, searching for the dawn. 黑沉沉的大海是一条没有脚印的路,我提着梦中的灯盏寻找黎明。

The soul of poetry is born in the rain. 诗歌的灵魂在雨中诞生。

On a night without stars or moon, a blue-green ocean drifts with endless sorrow. 无星无月的夜晚,青绿的海洋,漂浮着不尽的忧伤。
When the world falls asleep, I will appear here, chewing the starlight strewn across the ground. 在世界沉睡之时,我将在这里出现,咀嘶满地的星光。

At the horizon, a single red glow within the massing clouds will be the wandering that is mine. 天边的,那阴云密布里的一道红光,将是属于我的流浪。

The stars scattered across the sky — are they lighthouses among the clouds? 漫天的星辰,是否为云间的灯塔?

The beauty of reminiscence needs no embellishment. 原来回忆的美丽无需装点。

Every rustle of the wind, every sway of the grass, can freeze me in the road. 每一个风吹草动,都可以把我凝固在路上。

The beautiful shore is right under my feet — yet beautiful imaginings dwell forever on the far side. 美好的彼岸就在脚下,而美好的想象永远在美好的彼岸。

The nights of London are sweet and melancholic, like poetry. 伦敦的夜,像诗一样甜蜜而悲凉。
Those faces are more than a mirror; they are an unbreakable spell. 岲止是无形的镜子,那牢不可破的囚笼。

The sun does not rise, yet my sleeves are dotted with stars. 太阳没有升起,而我的衣袖上留下了繁星点点。
Only the holidays are so gentle — as if time itself were intoxicated. 只有假期是那么温柔,仿佛迷醉了时光。

What are those in the distance? They are silent and sleepless nights. 在远方,在远方,无言,彻夜难眠。

I am the ghost on this mountain road; my murmurs stir the darkened paths. 我是这条山路上的幽灵,我的低吟凌乱黑色的走廊。
The mirror of Hyde Park holds not the you of now, but the you of the future — the free you. 海德公园的明镜里没有现在的你,但是有未来的你,自由的你。