The Heart of the Last Dawn

Atop Qinglin’s emerald slopes, I stumble into the realm of the half-immortal. I heat the snow to brew a drink, and Ying Moumou pours a thousand cups, all down my throat. Beneath the falling frost, a sword leaves its sheath. I recall a lonely day when sleep would not come. I gaze skyward: the rosy sea-glow shines, scattering the blue smoke, while the stars of the elm constellation remain bright in the dawn sky.

I break into a smile, then laugh. Life is but a dream. Look at the sun and moon racing past like bouncing pellets. So many words still weigh on my heart, but never mind. Let them all dissolve in this Luofu spring, beneath the blade’s cold gleam...