记不清了,有多少帝王将相戴着你的面具生杀予夺;又有多少文人墨客打着你旗号褒贬评说。你心力憔悴地为一顶顶皇冠加冕正名。时过境迁,又是你,无可奈何地亲手点燃焚烧每个王朝没落的火把。你亲身交付每位君王一套钳制民众的枷锁,可你不明白呀,锁得最深的人儿正是你自己!可悲的大成至圣先师文宣王啊,你竟成了帝王统治的仪仗!开国王朝震天动地的乐声中,你恰是那站在最低台阶上的拜者。
I can't remember how many emperors wear your mask to kill or to kill, and how many literati comment on it under your banner. Your heart languishes to crown a crown. As time goes by, it's you who can't help lighting the torch of each dynasty. You personally give each king a set of shackles to restrain the people, but you don't understand that you are the one who locks the deepest! Sadly, you have become the honor guard of emperor rule! In the music of the founding Dynasty, you are the worshiper standing on the lowest step.
今日大成殿依旧香烟缭绕,清香燃起,烟尘升腾。冥冥中,老夫子向我款款走来,脸上依然挂着千年不变的凡人的微笑。历史的笔开始在我手中颤抖,教科书上那笑容可掬的老头儿,被涂过太多的油彩。
Today, the Dacheng hall is still surrounded by cigarettes, with fragrance burning and smoke rising. In the dark, the old man came to me with a smile of a thousand years. The pen of history began to shake in my hands. The smiling old man in the textbook was painted too much oil.
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