Butterflies in Love with Flowers

The phoenix-tail strings sing clear in the tower, beneath the moon, as poetry is recited and praises ring out. Leaning on the balustrade, one gazes across a thousand autumns. Do not climb among the blossoms and stain them with red tears; drunk, all that remains is an empty jade cup.

The strings break, and fragrance fills the snow on the jade terrace. Crimson and worn, she lifts her skirts and walks back through the corridor. She would step down to the cold stairs and brush her sleeve with red, but dew gathers, rippling and breaking the still pool.

Butterflies in Love with Flowers

Music: Part of Me

Lyrics: Feng Yi

A blue butterfly settles crookedly in her hairpin, while sandalwood fragrance curls through the rafters.

At dusk, she drinks and speaks of fading chrysanthemums, a cup of clear tea in the breeze.

She knows not the desolate streets of Loulan, and praises herself alone beneath the moon.

In the depths of the covered walkway, falling blossoms leave their traces; a lonely lamp still lights the wall.

The phoenix-tail strings quicken, reflected in the moon as dark brows sweep downward.

A broken branch is offered in sacrifice; she dances in vine-woven robes until the song ends. Pale ink moss stains the heart of an old friend.

Alone on the road to Yangguan, she carves stone and plays a doomed game, gripping frost as she strikes with her sword, yet her thoughts still drift away.

Beneath the plum blossoms, the butterfly is like jade; with you, I play a game for life and death, all written in fate.

The songs of wind and smoke can never end. Half a game of chess between heaven and earth; clouds of the past clear from the blue sky.

Yet now, I have nowhere to entrust this life.

Behind pearl curtains and jade screens, a figure is faintly seen; clouds and mist drift past carved windows.

The golden wind would caress the crown of an immortal. With whom will I compete in my drunkenness?

Maple flames burn away the green of the pool; I can no longer hear the people of today singing.

Dust clings to the high pavilion's vermilion eaves. How can this ever be remembered for long?

Speak not of the countless living, for none understand its meaning.

Say not that the passion we shared was empty words. Fragrance fades as I tread upon the leaves, lamenting an old friend.

The moon sets before Loulan. Frost darkens the paper, revealing the reckless bravado of one who speaks idly of drawing a sword.

Beneath the plum blossoms, the butterfly is red as blood; with you, I make a prophecy: life and death are left to heaven.

The road winds farther into the mountains. Green waters and the slanting sun bear witness as I count the grievances and kindnesses of years gone by.

Three and five knots bind this heart, which cannot be undone.

In the blink of an eye, one gazes at the moon, fragrance summoning a blue butterfly. Beauty and bones are impossible to tell apart.

In green robes, she dances with the wind. Her destination is the Yellow Springs; the candles go out as night deepens.

Her soul breaks, and both resentments are spent. Incense stirs the seven strings, turning the tune to a fleeting, carefree life.

One exchanged glance, one word, one song.

Parting, morning after morning and night after night. After parting, what year will we remember? Year after year, flowers and butterflies.

Butterflies in Love with Flowers, night after night. The night stretches long, and people cannot sleep; sleep is shallow, the candles burn fierce.

Bright and blazing, blood spreads, turning to flying smoke. Through mist and rain, how many layers of sky?

The sky screen buries the moon; the moon breaks into fragments, and the blue butterfly yearns for love.

A blue butterfly, like a firefly, gets drunk beneath the flowers; sandalwood melts in a golden censer.

In the painted hall, a lovely figure is reflected in a sparse shadow; silent waters run cold and clear.

One red branch was yesterday's beauty, now fragrance gathers in a silver vase of dew.

I still remember the bamboo embroidered on her vine-woven robes; crimson maples cover the path.

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