一缕轻风

A light wind

拂过那白杨林

brushing the poplar grove

惟一叶

starts but one leaf

晃动。

shaking.

晨曦，

Dawn,

她指尖上的金，

gold on her fingertip,

将一只鸟

touches one bird

点醒。

waking.

于是你的声音

So your voice

在这拥塞的房间里

in this crowded room

留下一颗心

leaves one heart

砰訇。

quaking.