Paper and pencils made a birth: 纸和铅笔做了一个生日：

Poetry that I once wrote her. 诗歌，我曾经写了她。

There's nothing we were holding down. 没有什么我们被按住。

Nothing we were holding down. 没有什么我们被按住。

   

I kept a favorite photograph 我一直喜欢的照片

Of her and I in the tall dream grass. 在高高的草丛梦中她，我。

And nothing here could take us down. 而且这里没有什么可以让我们分开。

Nothing here could take us down. 这里没有什么可以让我们分开。

   

Paper buried in the dirt: 纸埋在土里：

It's all the poetry that I once wrote her. 这是所有我曾经给她写的诗。

It's something we were burning down. 这是我们都烧毁。

Something we were burning down. 我们的东西被烧毁。

   

I lost my favorite photographs 我失去了我最喜欢的照片

Buried deep in the tall dream grass. 深深地埋在高高的梦草。

There's so much I am holding down. 有这么多，我按住。

(So much I am holding down.) （这么多，我按住。 ）

There's so much I am holding down. 有这么多，我按住。