Golden haze on the 405,

your laughter rides the breeze like a surfer’s tide.

Palm shadows ink the dashboard blue,

we’re fugitive sparks in a violet sky’s hue.

You trace tomorrow on my sunburned skin,

whispering maybe where the fault line thins.

Let the salt erase every rear-view name—

in California, we don’t burn out… we just change.

Without you, the sky forgets its blue,

the guitar weeps in a minor it never knew.

Caravans rest, no drums, no flame,

only your name echoing through the dunes again.

I braid the wind like your absent hair,

drink salt from the cup we once shared.

If dawn must come, let it come late—

light hurts like love when it illuminates

empty hands, empty hands, still reaching for you.

Lina，風(fēng)把你的名字寫在沙漠的月光里，

我騎著昨夜遺忘的駱駝，

沿著你睫毛的影子，

把鹽分熬成糖。

Lina，你一句“撒拉姆”就卷走我所有方向，

我把心跳埋進(jìn)沙丘，

等一朵不會(huì)開的玫瑰，

替你守口如瓶。

Lina，當(dāng)星星開始學(xué)你低頭，

我就知道，

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