有太多顾虑让我不能安静下来
写诗是唯一的方法
你们把人间搅得这样混乱
不堪。我只需要一间房子
不必宽敞，但是有足够的光线
偶尔有鸟飞过
衔走我的孤独
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oh, too much care upsets my mind
writing poetry is the only way to calm me
you mess up the world, so unbearable
I need nothing but a house of my own
not spacious but with enough light
a bird flies over it once in a while
to take my solitude away
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谁都不会在意我的诗
只有你，我的父亲
你视若珍宝
它带不来金钱和楼房
也换不回油盐和大米
在那幢二十年都没有拆的老屋
你静静地捧读它
你总是相信你的儿子会有大出息
终有一天衣锦还乡
这个时候
我总是落下泪来
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nobody cares about my poems
but you - my father - you treasure them
they cannot bring money and house
nor be exchanged for oil, salt and rice
you silently read these poems
in that old house of twenty years
you always believe in my future success
that one day I'll return home in glory
however, at moments like this
I can never hold back my tears
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