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第7章 A Fighting Bull on the Brink of Death

—A story about fighting bulls in the Daliang Mountain Range (II)

"You can destroy him, but you can never beat him."

—Ernest Hemmingway

In the dead of the night

When all the folks are fast asleep

He lies in the bullpen, feeble and languishing,

Waiting for the descent of his fatal destiny

His eyes faintly open

Filled with woe and despair

But right at that moment he seems to hear

In the wilderness far away

At the former bullring which he knows so well

A young bull much stronger than he

Shouting and calling his long-forgotten name

In language foul and defiant

Poking fun at him, humiliating him, and scolding him;

Exactly at this moment he also feels

A wild impetus exploding inside him

So, he makes his frenzied charge to the bullring in the wilderness

A place which he knows so well

And along the course of his frenzied charge come

The sounds of the bullpen cracking and dilapidating

Small trees snapping and breaking

Rocks being bumped into

And the ground being pierced through

When the sun rises in the foggy morn

The old bull is found dead on the ground

Lying in the bullring where he used to fight

His horns penetrating deep into the soil

His body with deep bloody wounds as if chopped by knives

But his eyes remain wide open

With expressions of pride and smiles of fulfillment