是一对同在屋檐下躲避风暴的小鸟？是两朵在车辙中幸存的蒲公英？我记起我是古老的大地，簪着黎明的珠花；你是年轻的天空俯身就我，垂下意义无限的眼睛。
一戴上假面，我们不敢相认。
我相信我们还有其他未泄露的姓名。
你是梦，我是睡眠；你是巍峨的冰峰，我是苍莽的草原；你是躺在受辱土地上的不屈的弗拉基米尔路，我是路旁履着绿苔的一汪清泉。
在我们以颜色划分的时候，我们彼此不信任。
我们相信我们都通晓一种语言。
花钟喑哑的铃声，陨星没写完的诗，日光和水波交换的眼色，以及录音带所无法窃听的——霞光嫣红的远方你给予我的暗示。
如果一定要说话，我无言以答。
I believe we’ve met in another world.
Were we a pair of small birds sheltering from rain under the eaves？ A pair of dandelions somehow surviving in a wheel rut？ I remember I was an expanse of ancient earth， adorned with pearly flowers of dawn； you were young sky bending towards me， casting down an endlessly meaningful regard.
We put on our masks and didn’t dare recognize each other.
I believe we have other names， as yet unrevealed.
You are dream， I am sleep； you are a high and icy peak， I am endlessly grassland； you are an unyielding road lying on green moss at the roadside.
Our colors parted us， we didn’t trust each other.
I believe there’s a language we both speak.
The mute ring of the flower clock， poems the meteorite didn’t finish writing， the glances sunshine and waves exchange， and what the cassette tape failed to catch—hints the distance gave us， rosy with sun’s ray.
If you must speak， I have no words to answer.