再过5个小时，我要把自己汇入中国的迁徙洪流。此刻万千哀乐，不能尽述。放一首我喜欢的《伦敦街道》吧，给你，还有你，还有你们。让我们手牵着手，走过清洁的中国街道，走过丰饶的荒凉大地。
Streets of London
伦敦街道
（歌词乱译：王佩）
Have you seen the old man
In the closed-down market
Kicking up the paper,
with his worn out shoes?
In his eyes you see no pride
And held loosely at his side
Yesterday’s paper telling yesterday’s news
你是否看到那个老人
当集市都已经关张
他穿破的鞋子
踏在零落的废纸上
在他眼里你看不到尊严
也看不到人类的高尚
颤巍巍他的手里捏着一张
昨天的报纸登着昨天的文章
So how can you tell me you’re lonely,
And say for you that the sun don’t shine?
Let me take you by the hand and lead you through the streets of London
I’ll show you something to make you change your mind
所以，你怎能说你孤单忧伤
还说，看不到自己的太阳
让我拉着你的手
走在伦敦街道上
你会改变你的颠倒梦想
只要跟我看看刚才的景象。
Have you seen the old girl
Who walks the streets of London
Dirt in her hair and her clothes in rags?
She’s no time for talking,
She just keeps right on walking
Carrying her home in two carrier bags.
你可曾看见那个老姑娘
走在伦敦街道上
尘土满头，褴褛衣裳
她没时间说话
她只能匆匆忙忙
两只手提袋里
是她全部的家当
所以，你怎能说你孤单忧伤
还说，看不到自己的太阳
让我拉着你的手
走在伦敦街道上
你会改变你的颠倒梦想
只要跟我看看刚才的景象。
In the all night cafe
At a quarter past eleven,
Same old man is sitting there on his own
Looking at the world
Over the rim of his tea-cup,
Each tea last an hour
Then he wanders home alone
通宵的咖啡店里灯火微亮
时钟已接近午夜时光
同一个老人坐在自己身旁
透过杯子上的雾气
向着世界眺望
这杯茶喝了一个小时
然后他独自走在回家路上
所以，你怎能说你孤单忧伤
还说，看不到自己的太阳
让我拉着你的手
走在伦敦街道上
你会改变你的颠倒梦想
只要跟我看看刚才的景象。
爱尔兰秃头女歌手Sinead O’Connor
男声是Ralph Mctell
一路平安
请问女声是谁唱的啊？我只找到男版的
谢谢你的歌，正在下。
过年好。
听了歌。谢谢！贴的歌词与唱的有少许不同。下面是根据我听到的写的：
Have you seen the old man
in the closed-down market,
kicking up the papers
with his worn out shoes?
In his eyes you see no pride.
And held loosely by his side
yesterday’s papers telling yesterday’s news.
So how can you tell me you’re lonely
and say for you the sun won’t shine?
Let me take you by the hand and lead you through the streets of London.
I’ll show you something to make you change your mind.
Have you seen the old girl
who walks the streets of London,
dirt in her hair and the clothes in rags?
She’s no time for talking.
She just keeps right on walking,
carrying her home in two carrier bags.
In the all night cafe,
at a quarter past eleven,
same old man’s sitting there on his own,
looking at the world
over the rim of his tea-cup.
Each tea lasts an hour.
Then he wanders home alone.