再過不久，我將成為一個老人。一個法律上的老人，一個別人眼中的老人，一個別人為我起身讓座的老人。
再過不久，我將不再寫詩。以前很少人讀它，將來也是。它只是我安安靜靜不想被打擾的美好記憶。
再過不久，我將不再夢想悟道，只需孤獨前行，也只能前行，直到消失在未來的某一個神秘的時刻裡。
再過不久，我將不再夢想悟道，只需孤獨前行，也只能前行，直到消失在未來的某一個神秘的時刻裡。
再過不久，世界不再有我。
再過不久，我將徹底自由。
Before Long
Before long, I shall become an old man.
A legal senior, an elder in others' eyes,
One for whom people rise to offer their seats.
Before long, I shall cease to write poetry.
Few read it in the past, fewer will in the future —
It remains but a quiet memory, my sanctuary of solitude.
Before long, I shall dream no more of enlightenment,
Only walking alone in solitude. And yet walk I must,
Until vanishing at some mysterious moment in the future.
Before long, the world will hold no trace of me.
Before long, I shall be utterly free.
