II. Willing to Adorn the Living
2-1
Born with an evil curse,
Her hand dips into lethal cinnabar and white lead,
To personally decorate the faces of the dead.
Her skills are said to bestow beauty on anyone,
Even transforming their appearance completely.
2-2
Many skills were born out of her seclusion,
But it painted her dwelling in a gloomy vision —
Only a select few have set foot in this mansion,
And the thief and the weaver were two such lucky persons.
The girl converses with all items in the house…
With specimens, tea sets, and even pillows in profusion,
As if she can hear the responses of these non-living things.
“I have always lived in isolation…
Out of courtesy, this is how I practice my words and actions.”[1]
Tis hard to believe her explanation —
Her face when talking shows such a gentle disposition,
That unless she is telling fabrications,
She must regard her partners as mere children.
2-3
Thus, people passed these rumors down —[2]
within the area of her encirclement,
All things became frozen,
escaping time's increments.
It is an exaggeration, that is certain.
People only found an ancient lion's head in battle's ruined armaments.
“Those words are true.”
The head itself was nearly dead.
“Though they won in fierce battle,
the warriors were powerless to turn the tide.
It was the embrace where death dwelled
that gave early release from their pain.”
This is how Death escapes Time —
She keeps every final embrace,
Hidden in her immortal heart.
2-4
Out of her numerous works,
Butterflies and flowers often stand out stark —
Ignite them, and you can almost hear the maker's remark.
Even in death's silence,
Her sound can still be heard.
It is a gift greatly treasured by the maiden,
Few have the honor to be graced with such work.
Only one has the heart to burn such a gift,
And the reason she gives is rather far-fetched —
“I must peer into all fates unknown.”[3]
2-5
The power of time is boundless,
but there is one thing it cannot conquer.
“Death is abominable in humans' eyes.
Apart from my identity, there's nothing about me worthy of praise.”[4]
The beloved Goldweaver hears this in distress,
Then tries to teach her the art of weaving and threads.
It has been said that the maiden has works that the holy city possesses.
But this is the judgment the Goldweaver expresses —
“… Ah, well, none can know all things, nor be skilled in all crafts.
Her works are too early for the living to comprehend.”[5]