《在巴斯克的迷雾中，寻觅文化的灵魂之旅》

ToomanywolvesinmyearsTheytrytohidetheirteethbehindthemlipsThelipsthatturnasmiletoasneer.OhtobeweightlessinanatmosphereMoresuitedtomyframeCauseIfeelheavywhenI'mhere.Andattimesweallmayfeelwe'reLostinorbitlikeForgottensatellitesNeverdrawingnearertothatbrilliantsunWe'reallJusthangingaroundButeveryideaexistssomewhereIntheethertobefound.AndsoIkeepthislockedinmychestatnightAndwhenIwakeinthemorningIwillwaitforthelightningstrikeButyou'retheonlysongIeverwanttosingYouarethebeginningandtheendofeverything.ToomanypebblesinmyshoesTheymakeithardtowalkastraightlineTightropebalancingthepointofmeAgainstthepointofyou.It'slikeaquestionwithamillioncluesEachoneshouldleadmebacktoyouInsteadanother

我找不到纸笔写下这一份清凉

放手还会是朋友

Ican'tfindthewaytogetbacktotheend

天申佳节近，比屋尽欢声

自南渡后从头数，比旧京时过眼稀

楚语逢人千百种，茅檐到处两三家