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

那等在季节里的容颜如莲花的开落

东风不来，三月的柳絮不飞

你底心如小小的寂寞的城

恰若青石的街道向晚

跫音不响，三月的春帷不揭

你底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…