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外链地址
http://www.eemp3.com/audiofile/a682b82efee840b50d817ec76987dec6.mp3
点击复制Beneath the mountain’s quiet brow it lies
The old house —a watcher of time’s disguise
Blue tiles hum with the song of rain
And the creaking door recalls my childhood again
Outside bamboo shadows dance with the smoke
Mother’s smile warms where the years awoke
The scent of firewood weaves through the air
A dream of peace —so simple so rare
The path before the gate still leads afar
How many homecomings ended in wanderers’scars
Only the old house truly understands —
Each farewell begins with a backward glance
It stands in memory calm and wise
Neither aging nor sorrow in its eyes
It knows the silence of those who roam
Each grain of wood —pointing home
When time shall fade like dust on the wind
I’ll sit once more where evenings begin
Let life’s remaining tales rise with the smoke
Let my heart rest beneath that lamp’s soft cloak —
Like the old house quiet and kind
Dwelling in peace with passing time
Someday we’ll return together here
Sit at dusk as swallows cut the air clear
Let stories settle let our hearts grow still
For we belong —to this roof this earth this hill