“Nan Que” — An English translation of a Chinese song.

The curtains rise, the curtains fall,
I lower my gaze and let my silk sleeves flow.
Beneath the stage, the audience gathers,
All longing to behold a beauty like a fleeting dream.

I trace each delicate line of her face,
A touch of vermilion upon her brow.
Her waist sways like a willow in the breeze,
Each fleeting glance sets a thousand hearts adrift.

Now, dressed in splendor, the play begins,
Upon the stage, I sing of joy and sorrow all alone.
Graceful as clouds drifting through the sky,
I dance in robes of rainbow silk.

When the final curtain falls,
Frost has already touched my temples.

Like a painting brought to life,
My figure moves as lightly as silk.
The stage is filled with glory and light,
But behind the curtain lies a heart torn apart.

How can I leave behind these decades gone by,
When the fragrance of countless memories
Still lingers in the folds of my sleeves?

My feeling:
We spend our lives performing for the world, while time quietly writes its story upon us.