古城燭火道，

Ancient city, path lit by candles;

烈夜帶著濁水舔我的眉毛。

dark miasma licks my brows.

一隊白衣人笑喪。

A cortège, clothed in white, all smiling.

一隊死人送活漢……

Thus the dead lead on the living.

我甚至已經聞到了他們城外的饅頭。

I can almost smell steamed bread, graveyard offerings.

我幾乎是貼著墻上畫疾走——

I race along the city wall,

不，我簡直是一把摸黑的剃刀！

slicing night.

中國在這裏，一塊街上的髒冰，

This is China, a sooty ice chunk on the street,

眾生皆滑倒。完了，

tumbling anyone. It’s all over,

不再是彩繪呂布，刀劍畫戟已朽。

no more Lü Bu in color, his sword, his painted halberd rusted through.

在這裏，就是在這裏！

Here, right here!

他們吮著我的利爪，

The mourners taste my slashing claws.

聖人沒，麒麟出，萬箭齊發，

Sages vanish, a

可惜我不是。猶在煤車狂燈間傾軋。

qilin

appears, ten thousand arrows shoot at once.

旅人思夜，終無益，

Phantom lights amid coal cars, endless discord.

噩夢燒壞了懷中書。

A night traveler longs pointlessly;

一個刺客翻身跳回雕梁，

dark dreams ignite the letter in his breast.

萬年後不知可有劫世大火？一眨眼。

An assassin vaults for the ridge beam.

In ten thousand years, a great conflagration may scour the world.

One blink away.