青淤蔓延地

The Queen of the refugee district,

The childless Queen,

Begged a witch for a child.

"Well, well,

You must first listen to a hundred wishes,

Then wade through a hundred rivers,

And bury those hundred wishes with a corpse.

In the year after next, an infant shall grow from there."

The Queen of the refugee district,

The resolute Queen,

Gathering a hundred wishes was easy,

For she knew so many people.

Wading through a hundred rivers was hard,

For the hundred rivers were as bitter as the hundred wishes.

The Queen of the refugee district,

The Queen at death's door,

The hundred wishes and the hundred rivers

Slid down her back,

Slid past her eyes,

Slid across her lips,

And drifted lightly into the freshly dug grave.

She covered her wild eyes with silver coins,

And before the heavy snow could bury her,

Her last wish flew from her lips—

"I want a child,

With skin as white as fresh snow,

Lips as red as fresh blood,

And hair as black as a raven's feather!"

In the year after next,

From the skull that once housed those wild eyes,

An infant grew.

A child forever wrapped in garments as thick as snow,

Pale and wan.

A child with mucous membranes溃烂 (ulcerated) like a pomegranate, forever holding blood in her mouth.

A child whose fate was coveted by demons, as illusively black as a raven's feather.

In the year after next,

The echo bird continued to circle

This leper with nowhere to run,

Circling in the mortal realm.

In the year after next,

The echo bird shrieked and screamed,

For this destined one, the Lord of the Tower,