Three Lives of Wandering | Ba Kiếp Lang Thang

Author: Vũ Hoàng Chương | Fayland Maiden Rendition

Have we lost everything already?

Even the music of some yesterday.

The drum skin, the zither strings, the flute-spirit —

All dried up, like a singing voice grown thin.

The instrument is named “Bottom,” yet has no bottom.

Were all the strings of affection removed?

Or has the flute-spirit long since wandered off,

No longer able to summon Tầm-Dương’s shore?

Her rosy singing breath dissolved into blood —

Was it to warm her cheeks, once pale?

Alas, a beauty’s fate is always sorrow.

The night is ending; the wine is cold and stale.

Or was it that night

When the Buffalo Boy left the Fairy Seamstress?

Tearing one’s skin to dry her tears —

What’s left now for the drumhead?

Strike the drum…

And hear only desolation.

The sound is hollow —

Nothing remains.

Don’t keep trying;

It only makes the Music Spirit ache.

Three lives of wandering, huddled together —

We’ve lost everything…

Yet still…

we have each other.

Still…

we have each other…

…each other…