深藏于海面之下的，是一滩名为“我”的死水。
Deep under the sea is a pool of stagnant water called "I".
我浅薄、苍白，萎焉如同第十三月的洋桔梗花，并非纯真，更无美丽，只是空荡无依。
I am shallow, pale, withered Yan, like the 13th month of Eustoma grandiflorum, not pure, more beautiful, but empty and helpless.
或许离诗和远方太远，竟看不到一点希望。
Maybe it"s too far away from poetry and distance to see any hope.
丧的感觉，就像未饮尽的苦药渣，一股脑咽下滚烫的油水，却偏要在隆冬浸入冰河。
The feeling of bereavement is like the bitter medicine dregs that have not been drunk completely, swallowing the boiling oil and water, but dipping into the ice in the middle of winter.
机械地重复杂糅辞藻字句，漫无目的地在嘲讽中获得乐趣。
Mechanically repeat the words and phrases, and have fun in ridicule aimlessly.
时间冲淡了热情，让生活没了激情。
Time dilutes passion, so life has no passion.
一生并无收到鲜花，亦无与它一起生活，更未沐浴到暖光和浪漫。
In my life, I have never received flowers, nor lived with them, nor bathed in warm light and romance.
纸张喧嚣着重复墨水，溅射着寂廖，将花季的热忱尽数浇在无聊的日月，只望那轮替之后不负我单一的韶华。
The paper repeats the ink noisily, sputters the silence, pouring the enthusiasm of the flowering season into the boring sun and moon, hoping that after the rotation, I will live up to my single youth.
曾饮过一口繁花酒调，便以为明了寂寥模样，如今纵是双手亦抓不住这世间薄味。
Once I drank a mouthful of Fanhua liquor, I thought it was clear and lonely. Now even my hands can"t grasp the thin taste of the world.
晚风里有灯火的长河，还有一个不知疲倦的我。
There is a long river of lights in the evening wind, and an indefatigable me.
在焦头烂额的生计中踌躇不前，在一片黑暗的沉沦里夜夜笙歌。
Hesitating in the hard life and singing in the darkness.
最后看了看镜子，镜子却没有看我，它只看到了失意，痛苦和悲伤。
Finally looked at the mirror, the mirror did not look at me, it only saw frustration, pain and sadness.
