Ancient city, path lit by candles;

古城燭火道，

dark miasma licks my brows.

烈夜帶著濁水舔我的眉毛。

A cortège, clothed in white, all smiling.

一隊白衣人笑喪。

Thus the dead lead on the living.

一隊死人送活漢……

I can almost smell steamed bread, graveyard offerings.

我甚至已經聞到了他們城外的饅頭。

I race along the city wall,

我幾乎是貼著墻上畫疾走——

slicing night.

不，我簡直是一把摸黑的剃刀！

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

中國在這裏，一塊街上的髒冰，

tumbling anyone. It’s all over,

眾生皆滑倒。完了，

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

不再是彩繪呂布，刀劍畫戟已朽。

Here, right here!

在這裏，就是在這裏！

The mourners taste my slashing claws.

他們吮著我的利爪，

Sages vanish, a

聖人沒，麒麟出，萬箭齊發，

qilin

可惜我不是。猶在煤車狂燈間傾軋。

appears, ten thousand arrows shoot at once.

Phantom lights amid coal cars, endless discord.

旅人思夜，終無益，

噩夢燒壞了懷中書。

A night traveler longs pointlessly;

dark dreams ignite the letter in his breast.

一個刺客翻身跳回雕梁，

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.