MISTAKE
I passed through the South of Yangzi.
The face waiting at the turn of seasons,
Like a lotus flower, blooms and wilts.
Without the east wind,
The willow catkins in March do not flutter.
Your heart is like the lonesome little town.
Like its streets of cobblestones near nightfall.
When footfalls are silent And the bed curtains of March not unveiled.
Your heart is a little window tightly shut.
My clattering hooves are beautiful mistakes.
I am not a homecoming man,
But a passing traveler …
我打江南走过
在那里等待季节里的容颜如莲花的开落
东风不来，三月的柳絮就不会飞扬
你底心如小镇小小的寂寞青石在街道静静的和夜晚作伴，
当冬天的树叶已经脱净，三月的春帷还没有打开
你的心是小小的窗扉紧掩
我达达的马蹄是美丽的错误
我不是归人，是个过客…
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