时间抓住我的手
拉着我向前冲
雾好浓
看不清呀
越来越看不清……
越来越跟不上脚步……
矇眬间，有人说：
“给他白发！”
“给他夕阳！”
“给他冬天！”
被时间强拉得
我几乎上气不接下气
“休息一下嘛！
我好累哟！”
“为什么不把过去
意气风发的颜色给涂上？”
时间回头怒视我
那就要看谁能
在冰原上点燃火焰了
Declining Years Hsu ChiCheng
Time grasps my hands
Pulling and pushing me forward.
Amongst this dense fog
Which obscures my vision.
More and more my vision is obscured……
More and more my pace is slowed……
Through the haze voices sound:
“Give him gray hairs!”
“Give him a setting sun!”
“Give him The Wintertime!”
Pulled by intense time
I lose my breath and say:
“Let me take a little rest please!
I’m so very, very tired.”
Time glares furiously at me.
“Why don’t you smear with the colour of high spirits,
Your face as vigorously as you did before？”
Then it is up to someone who can kindle a fire
Upon a frozen plain.
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