The Old Memory Is a Beauty我们向前走了很远，才转头。We walk a long way before we turn back.我们追溯的时候，就为她画眉。
When we go back in time, we give her thrush.她的眉太淡，面容太模糊，Her eyebrows are too weak, her face is too blurred,如何敌得过岁月稀释，情爱挥发。How can she stand the time diluting, and love volatile.有一段梦游：There's a sleepwalk:我们逆走来时路，转几个风口，We go the other way, turn several wind gaps,终于聚在往事的老宅。And finally get together in the old house of the past.于是我们给她画眉，So we give her thrush,旧时光是个尤物。The old time was a beauty.将眉毛一遍遍描黑，We paint her eyebrows black over and over,但除此之外，我们不能做什么，But there is nothing else we can do,不能修补她昏暗的微笑，We can't mend her pale smile,不能解开她捆绑的双脚。
Or untie her bound feet.我们什么都不能做，We can't do anything,无法改变往事的轮廓。The outline of the past can't be changed.所以犹如两个回到童年的孩子，So like two kids who go back to the childhood,郁郁地握着画笔，用尽全力地涂绘，Gloomily holding the brush, we paint with all our strength,直到将画纸穿透。Until the paper is pierced through.总是肇事，戳破了糊在窗棂上的花纸。
Always in trouble, we puncture the paper on the window lattice.逆着光线向昏暗的早年看去，Looking against the light to the dim early years,投宿于不复存在的臂弯，In arms that no longer exist,向旧时光讨一丝暖。We look to the old days for a little warmth.。
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