My bus heads down Xidazhi Street.

我乘車經過西大直街

Beyond a huge ruin of shadows

在陰影的巨大廢墟上升起

climbs the twentieth-century moon,

二十世紀的月亮

pale as the face of a sleepwalker.

蒼白得像夢遊者的臉

At a fingerflick

輕輕叩擊

it would ting like porcelain.

會發出瓷器般的聲響

How fragile our life.

使我想到生命如此脆弱

How much death the moon has witnessed.

一個人靜靜躺在車輪下

Even now, in the wheels’ path,

月亮目擊過無數次死亡

someone quietly reclines.