Lan Ting Preface

Composer: Jay Chou (周杰倫) (周杰伦)
Lyricist: Vincent Fang (方文山) (方文山)

Notes: 拓 is meant to be pronounced ta

Practising calligraphy after a model in Lan Ting
A semi-cursive script is like a natural and flowing style of writing
Under the moon the door is pushed
Careful like your fragmented steps
Hastily
It's easy to transfer a thousand year stone tablet yet it's hard to transfer your beauty
The authentic calligraphy has disappeared
Who can I give my sincerity to?

Playing the flute
A few dishes of yellow wine and small appetizers
The last rays of light from the setting sun
It's like your shyness, blushing as if drunk
A copy is easy to write
But the fragrance of the ink does not subside and the aftertaste remains together with you
A line of red ink
In the end who is surrounded by it?

It has nothing to do with the different seasons of the year
I wait for you to come back as I write my preface
My pen hangs
There are thousands of waves at that shore
What do these words of love mean?
No matter how I write them down it's wrong
And all I'm lacking
Is the understanding of your whole life

Time zips by
In a space of a moment the beauty is extinguished
On the green stoned street
You smile with a glance back, you're graceful
Is there hate?
You shake your head and sigh, who's made you frown?
And at the women's chambers
The taste of rouge is left behind

People and swallows fly to the South
Turning around I get a glimpse of your tears
Holding the moon with both hands
How can you sleep holding onto the memories?
And how will
Things on your mind be tightly sewn into embroidered flower shoes, each stroke of the needle is of resentment
If the flower resents the butterfly
Who will you resent?

It has nothing to do with the different seasons of the year
I wait for you to come back as I write my preface
My pen hangs
There are thousands of waves at that shore
What do these words of love mean?
No matter how I write them down it's wrong
And all I'm lacking
Is the understanding of your whole life

It has nothing to do with the different seasons of the year
I wait for you to come back as I write my preface
Books are without compunction
They have no fear of the right and wrong of the world
The rain beats down on the banana leaves
It's been drizzly for a few nights
I'm waiting for Spring thunder
To remind you of who you love

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