Every time I think of the old abode, before my eyes the blurred episodes unveil, and then I recollect my memories of the hometown bathing under the setting sun, and sigh about the transience of time, when it suddenly dawns on me that only the old abode remains unchanged in my memory.总喜欢在黄昏将尽、夜色渐浓时走向一处所在，安然地看这个宁静的世界，便仿若这世界独我一人。黑夜里树的剪影在风中摇曳成一簇拥挤喧闹的姿态，哗然得像一群对着太阳绽放笑脸的向日葵。好像谁的一声笑语，逗乐了所有矜持的树，它们都是羞怯的少女，连笑声也脆咯盈盈。独自面对一方池塘，夏夜里便有蛙此 起彼伏的喧嚣和聒噪，是另一种自然的天籁。夜游的虫寻觅着一丝一缕的光，对于它们，那些豆大的微火便足以抗衡整个太阳。蟋蟀躲在角落里，蝈蝈躲在角落里， 纺织娘娘也躲在角落里，其实它们发出的声音才是这个世界真实的声音。那些白昼里刺耳的鸣笛、爆裂的鞭炮都是世俗的音响，而真正的声音，是在这夜的宁谧里， 独自一人喃喃自语；是用最澄澈干净的声音来欢度这夜的寂寞与漫长；是在这夜的纱覆盖一切时安然地且听风吟。
I used to head for a abode in the last of the sun and the first of the moon, watching the serene surroundings with the feeling like my solely existence in the world. A cluster of postures so bustling takes shape as the trees cast their shadow flickering in the darkness, resembling the sunflowers oriented to the sun. Perhaps a laughter bursted out from somewhere amuses all the pent-up trees, those shy girls who could only smile with a chuckle. Another sound of nature wafts into my ears when I enjoy my sitting solitude facing a pool, the frogs incessantly croaking and clamorous in the vicinity. The evening wondering insects are seeking every possible ray of light, which, even though bean-sized, for them simply equaled the sun. Crickets are cowering in the nooks, so were grasshoppers and other similar insects. The sounds from them are the real sounds of the world while the sounds of sirens in the day and the crackling of firecrackers are profane and artificial because the reality of a sound can be felt only when you stand alone whispering in the tranquility of the evening, joyfully spend the long night overflown with loneliness and peacefully hear the wind sing with everything unveiled by the night.