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　　這世界老了，負(fù)載如許沉重的愛(ài)與虛無(wú)；你歌聲里的獅子也老了，猶然眷戀地斜倚在童年的菩提樹(shù)下，不肯輕易入眠。

　　The world is getting old, laden with such heavy love and nihilism. The lion in your songs is getting old too, still leaning affectionately against the childhood linden tree, unwilling to give in to sleep.

　　睡眠也許是好的，當(dāng)走過(guò)的歲月像一層層冰雪覆蓋過(guò)人間的愁苦、磨難；睡眠里有花也許是好的，當(dāng)孤寂的心依然在荒蕪中尋找草綠。

　　Sleep may be desirable, when the past days are like layers of snow covering human misery and suffering. It may be as well to have flowers in one’s dream, when the lonely heart is still seeking green grass in the wilderness.

　　春花開(kāi)在冬夜，熱淚僵凍于湖底，這世界教我們希望，也教我們失望；我們的生命是僅有的一張薄紙，寫滿白霜與塵土，嘆息與陰影。

　　Spring flowers bloom on winter nights, boiling tears freeze at the bottom of the lake. The world teaches us to hope, and disappoints us too. Our lives are the only thin sheet of paper we have, covered with frost and dust, sighs and shadows.

　　我們?cè)谝凰杭雌频募埳献鰤?mèng)，不因其短小、單薄而減輕重量；我們?cè)诓吝^(guò)又擦過(guò)的夢(mèng)里種樹(shù)，并且在每一次難過(guò)的時(shí)候回到它的身邊。

　　We dream on the fragile paper—none the lighter for all its shortness and thinness. We grow trees in the dream that has been erased time and again, and return to them each time we feel sad.

　　春夜聽(tīng)冬之旅，你沙啞的歌聲是夢(mèng)中的夢(mèng)，帶著冬天與春天一同旅行。

I am listening to Winterreise on a spring night. Your hoarse voice is the dream in my dream, traveling along with winter and spring.