The street is still the same, scene of debauchery, no faint unbearable 那条街道还是一样,灯红酒绿,靡昏不堪 The song is the same in the streets, to tactfully, continuous 街道里的歌也还是一样,低哑婉转,绵延不断 A song is sang rose as well, shattered open at dawn, at dusk 歌中唱着的玫瑰还是一样,在晨曦中开放,在黄昏下碎落 With the Rose I, is the same. 携着玫瑰的我,也还是一样 Not to tell you, I love you, this sentence 没有向你说出,我爱你,这句话
The song is the same in the streets, to tactfully, continuous 街道里的歌也还是一样,低哑婉转,绵延不断 离开了那家从前常去的店,街道转角那个流浪的失明的异国歌女还在唱着歌,她也走过去,往她面前的纸盒里投了些零钱,蹲在一旁,静静地听歌女唱一会。 The song is the same in the streets, to tactfully, continuous 街道里的歌也还是一样,低哑婉转,绵延不断 “啊,是您呐,谢谢”一曲终了,歌女才偏过头,没有光亮的眼睛透过她似乎是没有焦距在看着远方微笑“您的先生回来了么?您身上先生的烟味有些重啊” 歌女看不到她是摇头还是点头,只是自顾自的说下去“要是今年还没回来的话,我瞧您还是别等他了” “不值得,为了一个男人,不值得”歌女扯着低哑的嗓子念念叨叨,忽然意识到她并未在听,才苦笑“不过我想,我对您说什么,您也听不下去的吧‘ “今年又给您先生买了什么礼物呢”歌女闭起眼睛,回忆“让我这个坏女人想一想,那时你们也是这天来的,四年,我数着呢”