故乡的歌是一支清远的笛
总在有月亮的晚上响起

故乡的面貌却是一种模糊的怅惘
仿佛雾里的挥手别离

离别后
乡愁是一棵没有年轮的树
永不老去

Songs from my hometown are the
silvery tinkling of a bamboo flute, always heard on the moon-adorned night.

The landscape of my hometown,
however, is the vagueness of a dejection,
as if waving goodbye to me in a fog.

After we part,
homesickness grows into a
tree without growth rings,
forever alive in my heart.