丰收季总是从田垄踮着足尖 看阳光下一遍又一遍镰舞 金黄谷物于腕部沉甸如思 似我们再度眺望而生涩的眸子 那些曾荒芜良久的地域 劫难后的风暴声使我们高挑眉宇 岁月伤痕在我们焦渴处隐隐生痛 我们的肩依然负重着希望 Harvest season always tiptoe from the ridge to see the sun again and again over and over again the golden cereal in the wrist sinking like a thought we look again and jerky eye those once deserted area storm disaster after the storm so that our tall eyebrows Years of scars in our thirst for a faint ache Our shoulders still bear the hope