Inspired by the song of the same name by the same author
“A Letter Across Lifetimes”
Yu Feier
Three thousand years pass, and three keepsakes, a broken sword, a letter, and an old photograph, link three bonds of destiny that cross time and space: a promise of chivalry in the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods, a farewell over poetry and wine in Chang’an during the prosperous Tang dynasty, and a resonance between souls in a modern city. At last, the truth of reincarnation is revealed in a transcendent realm. In each era, the protagonists are bound by an obsession like a “letter across lifetimes,” repeatedly passing one another by in parallel universes as they seek the answer to reunion somewhere between forgetting and remembering.
Verse One (Spring and Autumn and Warring States, a land engulfed in war)
A broken sword rusts through, bamboo slips half-unfurled, the annals blurred
The north wind sweeps past, the Yi River cold, whose song remains unheard?
The moon fills the high terrace, beacon fires flare and fade, lighting the saddled horse left behind
A promise outweighs the Nine Tripods, a scholar’s robe weighs little, why need the blue gown?
Dust from the post road drifts over the walls of the old city
Spring and Autumn on paper, every stroke twists and turns
You hold the bamboo slips, I brush the strings of the zither, separated by smoke and flame
I gave my life to my country, but could not give it to an ordinary life
Verse Two (Chang’an in the prosperous Tang, blossoms everywhere)
By the Vermilion Bird Bridge, skirts flutter, wine banners wave
Sogdian merchants’ camels trample the spring robes of Chang’an
The banquet at Qujiang ends, a poem is written in a drunken haze, its ink still wet
An imperial courier races in, bearing a letter from afar, sent over the mountains
Wind chimes at the Giant Wild Goose Pagoda shake loose the last stars in the Milky Way
On the pipa strings, the joys of a lifetime are laid bare
You lean against the vermilion tower, I ride with my saddle, separated by Chang’an
Chang’an could not hold me for a lifetime, so I rode toward Yangguan
Verse Three (The modern world, noisy with traffic)
The subway roars, neon lights flicker past the windowsill
Coffee turns cold, the writing on an old photograph fades
The last bus carries the late commuters, the city weary
You are on the other end of the screen, saying good night
Convenience-store lights shine on a snowy day
Headphone wires wind around the passing years
You race through dawn and dusk, I count the clock
