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[Mario & Mu Han] Mario & 慕寒 - 盛世回首 | Looking back on an age of prosperity


renn

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Mario & Mu Han (慕寒) -

| Looking back on an age of prosperity


NB: The title is literally "prosperous / age / turn back / head", so the "on" aspect of the English translation is interpretive, based upon the lyrics.

 

Lyrics: 付é®ä¹¦ (Fu Zheshu)
Composition: 0.5
Arrangement: 墨辞 (Mo Ci), 潇儿 (Xiao Er)
 

Lyrics translation by renn at www.onehallyu.com

credits.png





Mario:
æ‘å¤´æŸ³æ ‘ï¼Œåƒæžåž‚å‘为è°ç•™ï¼Œ
é¿è¿‡å²æœˆï¼Œå‰ƒåº¦é•¿æƒ…的风头。
他站在å‰å°˜é£Žå£ï¼Œè¿›ä¸åŽ»ä¹Ÿä¸è‚¯èµ°ï¼Œ
忽呛出泪,æ²å¼€æ»¡ç›®çš„尘垢。

cÅ«n tóu liÇ” shù, qiÄn zhÄ« chuí fà wèi shéi liú,
bì guò suì yuè, tì dù cháng qíng de fēng tóu.
tÄ zhàn zài qián chén fÄ“ng kÇ’u, jìn bù qù yÄ› bù kÄ›n zÇ’u,
hÅ« qiÄng chÅ« lèi, qÄ« kÄi mÇŽn mù de chén gòu.

The willow tree at the entrance of the village, [its] thousands of branches of drooping hair are left for whose sake?
Having evaded the years, tonsuring the limelight of a long-lasting love.
He stands at the gap where the wind of the past blows, unable to enter and yet unwilling to leave,
Suddenly choking with tears, infusing the dust and grime that's everywhere.


慕寒:
铿—枯è‰ï¼Œæˆ’了酗雨用多久,
是å¦é•¿è¿‡ï¼Œå¿˜å´ä¸€äººçš„年头。
ä»–å°†åªå½±éƒ½æŽ¥é£Žï¼ŒåˆåŽæœˆä¸‹ä¸Žæ¢¦ä¸­ï¼Œ
而你始终,éšå§“埋å于心å£ã€‚

dào páng kū cǎo, jiè le xù yǔ yòng duŠjiǔ,
shì fǒu cháng guò, wàng què yī rén de nián tóu.
tÄ jiÄng zhÇ yÇng dÅu jiÄ“ fÄ“ng, wÇ” hòu yuè xià yÇ” mèng zhÅng,
ér nÇ shÇ zhÅng, yÇn xìng mái míng yú xÄ«n kÇ’u.

The withered grass by the road, how long did it need to achieve abstinence from the excessive drinking of rain?
Has [it] ever grown long, forgetting the years it spent alone?
He holds a welcoming dinner for even the lone shadow that arrives from afar, in the afternoon, beneath the moon, and inside dreams,
While [through it all] you always live incognito within [his] heart.


Mario:
他穿过街å£ï¼Œæœ‰å†¬é›ªç™½å¤´ï¼Œ
衰于艳阳最好的ç«å€™ã€‚
慕寒:
他步步回首,在盛世游走,
å´ä¹Ÿåªæƒ³æ½¦å€’你眼中。

tÄ chuÄn guò jiÄ“ kÇ’u, yÇ’u dÅng xuÄ› bái tóu,
shuÄi yú yàn yáng zuì hÇŽo de huÇ’ hòu.
tÄ bù bù huí shÇ’u, zài shèng shì yóu zÇ’u,
què yÄ› zhÇ xiÇŽng liáo dÇŽo nÇ yÇŽn zhÅng.

He crosses the intersection, with winter snow to whiten [his] head of hair,
Waning in the best heat of the bright beautiful sun.
He turns his head to look back with every step, wandering in the age of prosperity,
And yet [he] only wishes to be poor and miserable within your gaze.


Mario:
åŸå‰è½èŠ±ï¼ŒåŒå¯æ³¥ä¸‹æ•…人酒,
破了亡魂,当饮淡漠的忌å£ã€‚
慕寒:
他站在å‰å°˜é£Žå£ï¼Œæƒ³å½»é†‰å´é†’了酒,
å½’é€”å’Œä½ ï¼Œæ³ªæµæˆæ²³ä¸­å¤±å®ˆã€‚

fén qián luò huÄ, tóng qÇn ní xià gù rén jiÇ”,
pò le wáng hún, dÄng yÇn dàn mò de jì kÇ’u.
tÄ zhàn zài qián chén fÄ“ng kÇ’u, xiÇŽng chè zuì què xÇng le jiÇ”,
guÄ« tú hé nÇ, lèi liú chéng hé zhÅng shÄ« shÇ’u.

Flowers fall before the grave, lying down to sleep together with the wine of the departed [resting] under the mud.
Having broken the spirit of the dead, one should drink what apathy calls for avoiding.
He stands at the gap where the wind of the past blows, wanting to be thoroughly inebriated and yet sobering up.
In the midst of a river of tears, [he] failed to hold onto [both] you and [his] way home.


Mario:
ä»–ç»•è¿‡èŒ¶æ¥¼ï¼Œæœ‰æ™šé£Žå™æ—§ï¼Œ
泡了几朵烟花托于手。
慕寒:
他缓缓闭眸,似与你碰头,
å¬ä½ å°†æ²‰é»˜çŽ¯çŽ¯ç›¸æ‰£ã€‚

tÄ rào guò chá lóu, yÇ’u wÇŽn fÄ“ng xù jiù,
pào le jÇ duÇ’ yÄn huÄ tuÅ yú shÇ’u.
tÄ huÇŽn huÇŽn bì móu, sì yÇ” nÇ pèng tóu,
tÄ«ng nÇ jiÄng chén mò huán huán xiÄng kòu.

He bypasses the teahouse, having the night wind to reminisce about the old times with,
Steeping a few blossoms of fireworks to hold upon the palm of [his] hand.
He slowly closes [his] eyes, as if meeting up with you,
Listening to how you tightly interlock the silence.


Together:
他战褛过时,å‰äº‹æƒŸå¯æ‹¾ï¼Œ
å´æ˜¯ä¸‡ç®­ç©¿å¿ƒå†ä¸€æ¬¡ã€‚
至盛世尽头,那最åŽå›žé¦–,
终究未能断é€ä½ çœ¼ä¸­ã€‚

tÄ zhàn lÇš guò shí, qián shì wéi kÄ› shí,
què shì wàn jiàn chuÄn xÄ«n zài yÄ« cì.
zhì shèng shì jìn tóu, nà zuì hòu huí shǒu,
zhÅng jiù wèi néng duàn sòng nÇ yÇŽn zhÅng.

His outdated tattered war garment [is] the only thing of the past that can be picked up,
And yet [it puts him through] great grief once again.
Until the end of the age of prosperity, that very last look back over the shoulder
Fails to be buried in your gaze after all.
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