黄袍员外 Yellow-Robed Squire
锦袍丝绦飘晃晃，长嘴怪相目有光。
兴来醉酒卧荒冢，剑甲长，亮欺霜。
In silken robes that flutter bright,
A long-snouted guai with eyes alight.
Drunk with joy, he sleeps on tombs forlorn,
His spear and armor, gleam like dawn.
风沙，烈日，茫茫荒芜。
一个无头僧人与黄袍员外，同在枯木下歇凉。
僧人弹着手中的三弦，摇摇晃晃。
员外坐起，阻拦道:“别弹了，清静清静。
僧人手下一顿，坐开三分，抬手又要扫弦。
员外急忙将手中酒囊递过，道:“喝一口?
“没头，怎么喝?
“头呢?”
僧人自问自答道:“没了!被人偷了。”
“这种东西，合该收好，是你的错”
僧人侧了侧，无言以对。
员外从衣襟内，拿出一块金片，摊开给僧人。
僧人虽然无头无眼，却道:“此等贵重之物，示于人前，当心招贼。”
员外挥手道:“无事无事，若被偷了，我就找你。”
“我?”
“我只给你瞧过，若不见了，必是你偷的。”
僧人干笑两声，无法作答。
员外指着远处，笑道:“那边有的是金子，你何须偷我的?”
“我没打算偷。那边哪来的金子?”
“你竟不知?那曾是黄金古国，有许多金身佛像。金子就是那上边剥下来的。”
“佛像上的金子你也剥，不怕沾染因果?”
“呵，铸了那许多金身，也没得菩萨庇佑，可见世上没什么因果。”
僧人顿时无言。
员外一哂，倒过酒囊，发现已然空了，起身道:“我奉大哥之命，在此等人。你若想喝酒，就来此处寻我。”
他别好酒囊，又道:“我再去抠点金子，换了好酒，又能喝个够!”
那僧人想要阻拦，便弹起三弦，唱些什么因果报应。
黄袍员外根本不听，背对着他摆摆手，踏沙离去。
那无头僧人的歌声有些哀怨，但黄袍员外却开心得很，笑声久久也不断绝。
Windy, searing sun, a vast waste.
A headless monk and a yellow-robed squire rested together under a withered tree.
The monk plucked at the strings of his Sanxian, his body swaying gently to and fro.
"Enough," said the squire, rousing himself. "Let's have some peace."
The monk's hand stilled. He edged away, then raised his hand to strum again.
The squire hastily held out his drinking flask. "Have a drink?"
"With what mouth? I ain't got a head."
"Where is it?"
"Didn't ye hear the song?" the monk answered himself. "Gone! Someone stole it."
"You should've kept better watch on your head. The fault is your own."
The monk turned away, making no answer.
The squire drew a piece of gold from his robe and showed it to the monk.
Though he had neither head nor eyes, the monk warned: "Mind how ye swing about such a prize. Could have the thieves eyeing ye."
The squire waved a hand. "I don't have to worry. I'll come for you if it's filched."
"Me?"
"You're the only one I've shown it to. If it's gone, you will be the culprit."
The monk gave a dry chuckle, at a loss for words.
The squire gestured toward the horizon. "There's gold aplenty there. Why should you covet a mere sheet from me?"
"I ain't after yer gold. But tell me, what gold lies there?"
"You truly don't know? That was once a kingdom abundant with gold. Gold from the gilded Buddha statues, all stripped bare."
"Even the gold on Buddha statues... Ye ain't a believer in karma then?"
"Ha! All those golden Buddhas never brought them any favor. It is plain there is no such thing as karma."
The monk fell silent.
The squire sneered. Tipping his flask, he found it empty and then rose to his feet.
"I'm to await someone at the bidding of my Brother. If you want more drink, come find me."
He tucked the flask on the side. "I'll go scrape off more gold and trade it for a better brew. Then we can drink our fill!"
The monk tried to stop him, so he played the Sanxian, singing a song of karmic justice.
The squire paid him no mind. With a wave and a laugh, he strode away across the sands.
The headless monk's heart weighed down with disquiet. The yellow-robed squire, however, went on his way, and the desert air rang long with the peals of his laughter.
