老街
老街 by 李荣浩
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A faded photograph
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Seems to bring me a trace of nostalgia
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Hot noodle soup sold by the old man at the alley's end
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Its aroma drifts through the old backyard
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A stray cat sleeps soundly on a swaying swing
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The sunset shines on it, its eyes half-closed
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That postcard sent by my deskmate
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Lies quietly inside the desk
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Spring is almost over
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And the door curtain carved with patterns
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On both sides of the narrow, long corridor
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The old house still sends up cooking smoke
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Just after the light rain season
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The old street my parents once walked together
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I can't recall which year, which day
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Those long yet fleeting years
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Now I can't go back
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The time that has long slipped away
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The ticket in my hand, gradually blurring
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Becomes a signal of memories
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What I can't forget, I don't even know
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Can't recall how I looked back then
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A place I can't see, can't go to
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Maybe the old street's tune is my sorrow
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The smile at the corner of my mouth grows more forced
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What I can't forget, I don't even know
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Can't let go of familiar scenes
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Looking back, so many years have passed
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Through my fingers, I gaze at the sky
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I return to that old street again
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Leaning by your side, drifting further away
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