in the silver morning hollow
在明亮而空寂的早晨
trembling and getting old
颤抖着慢慢老去
smelling burnt oil of heaven
依稀闻到天堂里灯油的味道
about ten years,too big to hold
快十年了，却依然不能自已
she don't get up when I come into the room
我走进房间的时候，她没有醒来
she don't run through the fields anymore
她已不能越过那小小的栖身之地
built a fire in the kitchen
在厨房里生起火
made her bed by a stove
让她睡在熊熊的炉边
took a walk to the graveyard
墓地里徘徊再三
but she didn't want to go
她一定是不忍离开
she don't worry all them murders of crows
她全然不担心那些乌鸦的虎视眈眈
even though they was always out of reach
尽管她也毫无办法
she don't get up when I come into the room
当我走进房间，她已不再醒来
she don't run through the fields anymore
她已不能再在田野里奔跑
闪马，闪马，闪马。永远的闪马。永远的Mark Linkous。
“我走进房间的时候，她没有醒来，她已不能再在我衣服上擦眼泪。”
