《崖壁星语》2-2 英 男 主唱:王正天 创作:天台

Violet light bites the cloud’s scar, tea from 1834  

You stand beneath a thousand hands, star-robe sweeps the eight hundredth sore  

Stone lines sprout in your palm, seven hundred winds blow  

Grind “mercy” into sand, who counts, who wipes it slow?  

Moonlight is your string, star threads twist and shine  

Light up eight hundred palms, catch the heart-thief, reveal fate’s design  

He kneels into stone, rubs out a repentant scar  

You say, “It’s no punishment, but to let the heart rise far”  

Cliff is an old book, star dust fills the ink  

Mend the gold-flaked pain, the dew on the farmer’s brink  

Orchid peeks from the crack, leaves trace the star chart  

Mercy was carved long ago, on the chisel’s path from the start  

Samsara wheel turns the mist, you add reins and pin  

The drunkard’s foolish grin, sketched clear by star-pen  

“Mortals and Buddhas, both dust on the same way”  

You smile at the stone, startling the eave’s dew at play  

Tea stall grumbles, steps steep as a ladder’s rise  

You shift the angle, violets bloom before your eyes  

Like a guide flower from home, blooming light and free  

Making every step feel right, as it’s meant to be  

Storm washes the cliff, reveals the unfinished art  

Star-robe sweeps the mud, sleeves of Sage, Taoist, Buddha’s heart  

Three eyes spark and glow, sprout a seed called “Harmony”  

“Great Unity’s no myth, just home lost in dust, you see”  

Cliff is an old book, star dust fills the ink  

Mend the gold-flaked pain, the dew on the farmer’s brink  

Orchid peeks from the crack, leaves trace the star chart  

Mercy was carved long ago, on the chisel’s path from the start  

Eighth night’s zither wakes, atop Baoding’s peak  

Wipe the Medicine Buddha’s smoke, heal the sutra’s streak  

Kids chase the light, gather star shards bright  

Hold them warm, small suns glow, light the way home at night  

Blue cloth hides star gleam, lens holds faint light  

Weave star-core’s warmth, into the stone veins tight  

No fuss, no sound, yet every line recalls  

The heat of the stars, through time and through it all  

Cliff is an old book, star dust fills the ink  

Mend the gold-flaked pain, the dew on the farmer’s brink  

Orchid peeks from the crack, leaves trace the star chart  

Mercy was carved long ago, on the chisel’s path from the start  

Return signal hides, in spring at 14:38  

Stone lines wait, for the moment to translate  

“Great Unity’s footnote, is it each scar ties to star’s root?”