晨光劃破指尖的灰，

我把心跳折成紙鳶逆風(fēng)放飛；

讓傷疤作云梯，讓淚光作火，

一步踩碎“不可能”的殼。

當(dāng)呼吸燒成星，

我用名字刻銀河；

哪怕風(fēng)再冷，

我仍舉骨血作燈——

Reach higher，

把夜空燙個(gè)洞讓黎明倒灌；

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One wish before the tide turns silver,

whisper it to the wind that knows my name;

let it ride the last whitecaps of summer,

fold it into moonlight,

slip it beneath your pillow—

a spark that still believes in dawn.

If the sky forgets to burn,

if the roses fail to open,

this wish will keep breathing

inside the shell of every song we sang.

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