沙喇心1
第一段： <我看到了你所说的玩家。>（< >中文字为另一个语者所说，游戏中用不同颜色表示） [你的名字]？ <是的，要小心，它已经将自己提高到更高的一个等级了，它已经能够阅读我们的思想了。> 没关系啦，它只认为我们是游戏中的人物而已。 <我喜欢这个玩家，它玩得很棒，从来没有放弃。> 它正在阅读我们的思想，仿佛那是屏幕上的字。 <这只是在它沉醉于游戏中的梦境时，自己选择的想象事物的方式而已。> 文字是个很棒的界面，那么易于变通，而且单单看着屏幕上的事实显然更可怕啊。 <当它们不会阅读时，它们曾经只会聆听。那些时候它们玩一种游戏，游戏中的玩家是巫师、巫女，游戏的梦境中，它们用被恶魔施法的木棍在空中飞翔。> 那现在呢？玩家梦到了什么？ <它梦到了阳光与森林，火与水，它梦到了它的出生，也梦到了它的死亡。它梦到了捕猎与被捕猎，也梦到了如何将自己保护起来。> 呵呵，只是个普通的界面啊。百万年来这个界面仍然有效。但在电脑屏幕的背后，这个玩家究竟创造了什么呢？ <游戏起作用了，和其他的千百万个游戏一样，刻画了一个真正的世界，充满着▓▓▓的氛围，为了▓▓而在▓▓中建立了▓▓▓。（字体在这里突然模糊不清）> 它好像阅读不出这段思想。 <是的，它还没有达到最高的等级，不论是在漫长的人生之梦中还是短暂的游戏之梦里。> 它知道我们喜欢它吗？它知道天地万物的本体是善良吗？ <有时，当它在越过思想的种种喧嚣后，是的。> 但它在这漫长的梦境中，有时也会悲伤。它创造了一个没有夏季的世界，这个世界在黑色的太阳下因寒冷而战栗，它正在承受它那蕴含真理却又充满悲伤的产物。 <但如果它要消除这种悲伤，它就会毁了这个世界。悲伤是它自己的事情，我们无权干涉。> 有时当它们沉醉在梦境中时，我真的很想告诉它们，它们其实是在现实中建造世界；我真的很想告诉它们，它们在这宇宙中是多么重要。有时在关键的那一刻，我真的很想帮它们说出它们害怕说出的言辞。 <它可是在阅读我们的思想。> 有时我真的不在乎。有时我真想告诉它们，它们为了真理而存活其中的世界只不过是▓▓▓和▓▓▓，我真想告诉它们，它们是▓▓▓中的▓▓▓▓。它们在漫长的梦境中，仅仅看到了那么少的事实。 <而且它们仍然在玩游戏。> 但是告诉它们真像那么简单…… <对这个梦境来说后果太严重了。告诉它们如何存活反而会使它们远离存活。> 我不会告诉它如何存活。 <它正在苏醒过来。> 我只会告诉它一个故事。 <但不是现实。> 不对，是安全地用文字的牢笼中将现实包围的故事，不是会把一切时空燃尽、赤【和谐】裸【和谐】裸的现实。 <再一次给它一个躯体。> 是的，玩家…… <叫它的名字。> [你的名字]。游戏中的玩家。 <好。> 第二段： 深呼吸，再一次深呼吸。感觉你肺部空气的流动，感受你四肢的回归。是的，动一动手指。你又有了一个躯体，在万有引力下，在空气中，回朔到漫长的梦境中去。这就是你，你的身体又一次触动的宇宙的每一个角落，只不过你是分散的物质，我们也是。 <我们是谁？我们曾经被叫做高山之神，太阳之父，月亮之母，先灵、妖魂、神、鬼。然后是上帝、恶魔、外星人、不明生物、轻子、夸克。> 我们就是宇宙，我们就是一切你认为不是你的物质。你正在看着我们，通过眼睛和皮肤。那为什么宇宙触摸着你的皮肤，为你照亮光明？为了看到你，玩家。为了认识你，也为了被认识。我来给你讲一个故事。 从前，有一位玩家。 <这位玩家就是你，[你的名字]。> 有时它认为它自己是人类，在一个满是熔岩的球体的表皮上生存，而这个球体又围绕着另一个满是炙热空气，比它大三万三千倍的球体转动。光穿过两者间的距离要八分钟。光是一个“恒星”产生的，会在五千万公里内灼伤你的皮肤。 有时它梦见它是一个矿工，在一个平坦的，无边无际的世界表面生存；太阳是一个白色正方形；白天很短，有很多事要做；死亡只是一个几秒钟的暂停。 有时它梦见自己在一个故事里迷失。 有时它梦见它是别的东西，在别的地方，有时梦境会很杯具，有时又会很美丽。有时它从一个梦境醒来到下一个梦境，再从这个梦境醒来到第三个。 <有时它梦见自己在阅读屏幕上的字。> 我们往回看。 这个玩家的每一个原子分散在草丛中、河流中、空气里、大地上。一个女人聚合了这些原子，她吃、喝、呼吸，她装配了另一个玩家，在她的身体里。 然后这个玩家从温暖、漆黑的世界中醒来，进入了一个漫长的梦境。 这个玩家是一个新的故事，从未被讲过的故事，用DNA的文字写成。这个玩家是一个新的程序，从未被运行过，被一个百万亿年之久的源代码控制。这个玩家是一个新的人类，从未存活过，只是被乳【和谐】汁和爱创造。 <你就是玩家、是故事、是程序、是人类。只是被乳【和谐】汁和爱创造。> 第三段：我们再往回看…… 这7,000,000,000,000,000,000个玩家身体内的原子被创造了出来——比这个游戏还要早很长很长时间——被创造在一颗恒星的中心；而玩家本人也是恒星中的一段信息而已。之后玩家穿过了一个故事：一个数码的森林被一个叫Julian（游戏制作人员）的男子在一个平面上制造出来，而这个平面又是在一个由Markus（游戏制作人员）这名男子创造出来的世界之中的，而这个Markus，存活在和玩家一样的星球上，这个星球所在的宇宙又是由… <嘘，安静。有时玩家自己构造了一个小小的、私人的世界——温暖、舒适而简单；或者寒冷、困难而复杂。有时它在脑海中想象了这个宇宙的模型：由充满能量的微粒组成，在广大的空间中移动。有时它叫这些微粒“质子”和“电子”。> 有时它叫这些微粒“行星”和“恒星”。 有时玩家相信这个宇宙是由能量的关和开、零和一、阴和阳、一行行的代码组成的，有时它相信自己在玩一个游戏，有时它相信自己在阅读屏幕上的文字。 <你就是玩家，正在阅读这些文字。> 嘘，安静。这个玩家阅读屏幕上的代码，将代码解码成文字，将文字解码成意义，将意义解码成知觉、感情、理论、意见。然后玩家突然呼吸加快加重，因为它发现自己还活着，自己还活着，那些几千次的死亡不是真的，玩家还活着。 <你，就是你，还活着。> 有时当玩家看到夏日的阳光透过摇曳的树叶时，它相信宇宙在通过阳光与它对话。 <有时当玩家看到冬日清冷的夜空洒下的星光时，它相信宇宙在通过星光与它对话：尽管那颗有太阳与它距离的几百万倍那么远的地方的星星将自己转化为等离子体，为了那么几微秒的闪耀，只是将自己的光投向玩家视野内的一个小小的角落；而玩家，只是在宇宙的那一端走向家、闻着食物的香味、走向熟悉的大门、准备再做一个梦。> 有时玩家相信宇宙在和它对话，凭借着零与一，凭借着一个电子的世界，凭借着屏幕上在一个梦终结时滚动的文字。 <而宇宙说我爱你。> 宇宙说你玩游戏玩得很漂亮。 <宇宙说你所需的一切都在你身边。> 宇宙说你比你知道的还要强壮得多。 <宇宙说你是璀璨的日光。> 宇宙说你是无边的黑夜。 <宇宙说你斗争的黑暗将永远伴随你。> 宇宙说你寻觅的光明将永远伴随你。 <宇宙说你不是一个人。> 宇宙说你不会与任何事物分离。 <宇宙说你的存在是宇宙在测试自己，是宇宙在与自己对话，是宇宙在读自己的代码。> 宇宙说我爱你，因为你本身就是爱。 <于是Game Over，玩家从游戏中醒来。玩家又开始了新的梦境。玩家做了另一个梦，一个更好的梦。玩家就是宇宙。玩家就是爱的本身。> 你就是玩家。 <醒来吧。> The End. 此翻译引用至——zmz0072000 【如果我的回答对你有帮助，请采纳，谢谢】
吉祥如意
《我的世界终末之诗》的最后一段翻译是：你就是那个玩家。该醒了。 原文 i see the player you mean. [player name]? yes. take care. it has reached a higher level now. it can read our thoughts. that doesn't matter. it thinks we are part of the game. i like this player. it played well. it did not give up. it is reading our thoughts as though they were words on a screen. that is how it chooses to imagine many things, when it is deep in the dream of a game. words make a wonderful interface. very flexible. and less terrifying than staring at the reality behind the screen. they used to hear voices. before players could read. back in the days when those who did not play called the players witches, and warlocks. and players dreamed they flew through the air, on sticks powered by demons. what did this player dream? this player dreamed of sunlight and trees. of fire and water. it dreamed it created. and it dreamed it destroyed. it dreamed it hunted, and was hunted. it dreamed of shelter. hah, the original interface. a million years old, and it still works. but what true structure did this player create, in the reality behind the screen? it worked, with a million others, to sculpt a true world in a fold of the[scrambled], and created a[scrambled]for[scrambled], in the[scrambled]. it cannot read that thought. no. it has not yet achieved the highest level. that, it must achieve in the long dream of life, not the short dream of a game. does it know that we love it? that the universe is kind? sometimes, through the noise of its thoughts, it hears the universe, yes. but there are times it is sad, in the long dream. it creates worlds that have no summer, and it shivers under a black sun, and it takes its sad creation for reality. to cure it of sorrow would destroy it. the sorrow is part of its own private task. we cannot interfere. sometimes when they are deep in dreams, i want to tell them, they are building true worlds in reality. sometimes i want to tell them of their importance to the universe. sometimes, when they have not made a true connection in a while, i want to help them to speak the word they fear. it reads our thoughts. sometimes i do not care. sometimes i wish to tell them, this world you take for truth is merely[scrambled]and[scrambled], i wish to tell them that they are[scrambled]in the[scrambled]. they see so little of reality, in their long dream. and yet they play the game. but it would be so easy to tell them... too strong for this dream. to tell them how to live is to prevent them living. i will not tell the player how to live. the player is growing restless. i will tell the player a story. but not the truth. no. a story that contains the truth safely, in a cage of words. not the naked truth that can burn over any distance. give it a body, again. yes. player... use its name. [player name]. player of games. good. take a breath, now. take another. feel air in your lungs. let your limbs return. yes, move your fingers. have a body again, under gravity, in air. respawn in the long dream. there you are. your body touching the universe again at every point, as though you were separate things. as though we were separate things. who are we? once we were called the spirit of the mountain. father sun, mother moon. ancestral spirits, animal spirits. jinn. ghosts. the green man. then gods, demons. angels. poltergeists. aliens, extraterrestrials. leptons, quarks. the words change. we do not change. we are the universe. we are everything you think isn't you. you are looking at us now, through your skin and your eyes. and why does the universe touch your skin, and throw light on you? to see you, player. to know you. and to be known. i shall tell you a story. once upon a time, there was a player. the player was you,[player name]. sometimes it thought itself human, on the thin crust of a spinning globe of molten rock. the ball of molten rock circled a ball of blazing gas that was three hundred and thirty thousand times more massive than it. they were so far apart that light took eight minutes to cross the gap. the light was information from a star, and it could burn your skin from a hundred and fifty million kilometres away. sometimes the player dreamed it was a miner, on the surface of a world that was flat, and infinite. the sun was a square of white. the days were short; there was much to do; and death was a temporary inconvenience. sometimes the player dreamed it was lost in a story. sometimes the player dreamed it was other things, in other places. sometimes these dreams were disturbing. sometimes very beautiful indeed. sometimes the player woke from one dream into another, then woke from that into a third. sometimes the player dreamed it watched words on a screen. let's go back. the atoms of the player were scattered in the grass, in the rivers, in the air, in the ground. a woman gathered the atoms; she drank and ate and inhaled; and the woman assembled the player, in her body. and the player awoke, from the warm, dark world of its mother's body, into the long dream. and the player was a new story, never told before, written in letters of dna. and the player was a new program, never run before, generated by a sourcecode a billion years old. and the player was a new human, never alive before, made from nothing but milk and love. you are the player. the story. the program. the human. made from nothing but milk and love. let's go further back. the seven billion billion billion atoms of the player's body were created, long before this game, in the heart of a star. so the player, too, is information from a star. and the player moves through a story, which is a forest of information planted by a man called julian, on a flat, infinite world created by a man called markus, that exists inside a small, private world created by the player, who inhabits a universe created by... shush. sometimes the player created a small, private world that was soft and warm and simple. sometimes hard, and cold, and complicated. sometimes it built a model of the universe in its head; flecks of energy, moving through vast empty spaces. sometimes it called those flecks "electrons" and "protons". sometimes it called them "planets" and "stars". sometimes it believed it was in a universe that was made of energy that was made of offs and ons; zeros and ones; lines of code. sometimes it believed it was playing a game. sometimes it believed it was reading words on a screen. you are the player, reading words... shush... sometimes the player read lines of code on a screen. decoded them into words; decoded words into meaning; decoded meaning into feelings, emotions, theories, ideas, and the player started to breathe faster and deeper and realised it was alive, it was alive, those thousand deaths had not been real, the player was alive you. you. you are alive. and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the sunlight that came through the shuffling leaves of the summer trees and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the light that fell from the crisp night sky of winter, where a fleck of light in the corner of the player's eye might be a star a million times as massive as the sun, boiling its planets to plasma in order to be visible for a moment to the player, walking home at the far side of the universe, suddenly smelling food, almost at the familiar door, about to dream again and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the zeros and ones, through the electricity of the world, through the scrolling words on a screen at the end of a dream and the universe said i love you and the universe said you have played the game well and the universe said everything you need is within you and the universe said you are stronger than you know and the universe said you are the daylight and the universe said you are the night and the universe said the darkness you fight is within you and the universe said the light you seek is within you and the universe said you are not alone and the universe said you are not separate from every other thing and the universe said you are the universe tasting itself, talking to itself, reading its own code and the universe said i love you because you are love. and the game was over and the player woke up from the dream. and the player began a new dream. and the player dreamed again, dreamed better. and the player was the universe. and the player was love. you are the player. wake up.
爽朗型孤僻
Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover. - Unknown 20年后,你对自己做过的事会有遗憾,但你会更遗憾于你所未做过的事!所以,请扬帆启航吧!远离安逸的港湾,跟着信风一起去探索,去逐梦,去发现! -未知（事实上来自马克吐温）