Ten Days in Magic Land is the first solo album of Cold Fairyland singer and founder, LinDi. Inspired by a collection of poems by Chen Song and commissioned by zhong ruan master Liu Xing, Ten Days in Magic Land introduces a traditional Chinese musical element into Cold Fairyland’s dark and mysterious sound. From the opening jubilation of The Blessed Place, Ten Days in Magic Land is a fantastic vignette depicting the exotic, mysterious, and sensual inner world of a poet. The darkly majestic and magical “Mirror Theater”, the chilling “Desperate Flower in Your Hand”, and the programatic excellence of “The Flood” have become staples of the Cold Fairyland repertoire and were all featured on the live album. Repentance Day sounds like a dark secret, a melancholy dream, a confession vividly told with wistful regret. A plaintive flute plays a lovely solo before the superlative ending. The guitar and bass stop, there is just a held chord in the strings. A distant church bell tolls fifteen times as LinDi delivers a powerful yet personal and deeply moving coda. The song is so smooth and flowing, the odd five four time signature is never obtrusive. A tireless obligato toils behind the scene in “Slaves”. The soft surrender of LinDi’s wordless melody is the siren’s song that lures the travelers into slavery. It is a melody that lingers like a lover’s perfume. There is a sunset in the strings, and the synth sets the first stars to twinkling. “The Flood” is a beautiful piece of program music. After simulating thunder in the distance, the drums begin a martial figure, the inexorable march of the flood. The notes from LinDi’s pipa splatter like the first angry raindrops. The river is raging, the cymbals are splashing, faster and stronger till it spills over it’s banks and dives back into the glorious theme. Those are but a few highlights of an outstanding album that marks the evolution of an underground rock band into something more. Something unique. Something that might best be described as magic. Here is an English translation of the poetry of Ten Days in Magic Land: The First Day: The Blessed Land Ten thousand years in the eastern sky the sun and the moon will simultaneously shine the animals will sing together in jubilation One thousand mountains, One hundred rivers Suddenly appear The white-feathered bird circles Bamboo forest, wise & elegant Travelers forget their weariness Rushing toward the heart’s destination Blessing fairyland, heaven of heavens, Nirvana. The Second Day: Repentance Day (Shrove Tuesday) For all the crimes I have committed please, forgive me. Since I have yielded to fate from the struggle’s betrayal your blood warms my cold heart. For all my avarice please, forgive me. How many abandoned dreams, what freedoms destroyed are held in these hands? Longing for the souls’ sweet release never to come back. For everything I used to be please, forgive me. In this world I am not the saddest person. When suffering eyes suddenly touch my heart, please, double my pain. The Third Day: Dance of Seduction Gentle breeze blowing from the south of snow mountain lavish and luxurious palaces float above the rainbow. Crystal , Alpine Flower silver flash from ankle and wrist Virgin’s dance of seduction beautiful and graceful dance the thin gauze skirt is partially transparent Mysterious past the air at this juncture is filled with knowing glances Ghost to haunt the meantime with the eternal Eros Every night sensuous celebration The Fourth Day: A Desperate Flower in Your Hand When the hole in time is here the silence already decayed the heart fills with memories and secret breath surrounds I just want to be a flower growing quietly in your hand I dream I am a pure white flower quietly dying in your hand. The Fifth Day: Dusk on the Deep Green Prairie Silver, Green ripples on the water count the silence of a millennium until the woolen ball at the rope’s end falls into the stranger’s hand the sound of cow hooves in mud coming to meet the clouds up and down the sky. A strange vibration emits from the center of the earth On Pluto, the frustrated lover awakes my frozen eyes thawed saw angels circling the moat. All around grow the flowers, weeds and grain Descendants of thought, countless abstract children grow when the concrete god’s eyes are closed. The rhythm of unusual words the death of music the soaring of color the transparency of the body the pleasure and the pain As the sun goes down on this grassland green we watch this moment in time time and possibility, past and present that will return. The Sixth Day: Slaves The secret finally revealed, but we can not recall - what magic spell has captured us here. One with a harp in hand and an enchanted siren’s song stole our impulse for flight and we fell into the trap that opened under foot. The Seventh Day: Mirror Theater The moment full of metaphor Mirror and shadow Personally caved masks pasted on each others faces The ceremony began running and dancing torches tremble in fear the creeping and wormlike touch ultimately interpreted as the end of hostility. These short deaths only mirror happiness The Eighth Day: The Flood People begging for water this is their punishment not reproducing for hunger and thirst. They kneel in the river bed, the dry, split open bed, grinding the butcher’s knife preparing to sacrifice an ancient cow. These people live and die for water They are born of mud and silt. By water abandoned, these sons and daughters of water on this day, cease their killing fight. The animal skin drum beats lightly the rains begin to come the animal skin drum beats lightly Flood Flood The Ninth Day: Wake Along the slope, the incline covered with sand Sliding or falling down A baby Panicked and fled in the humid air Is hiding father's eye The Soil Giant's fingers capture their prey The smell of corruption Remains on the lips The Carnival for the moon A glass of water difficult to identify. At the birth of fire fragments scattered in the surroundings which one becomes the boat that carries Spring? which one is looking for the labyrinth? freezes or melts ... Death also is born slowly extends it’s wings and languidly looks outside the window. That anemic old man curls up in a tree The hand that holds poetry believes the dream as truth the tomb for which he waits is the tomb of time no entrance no more exits. The Tenth Day: Reincarnation Sitting quietly in front of their own home, they watch the passers-by. They quarrel at the hot market and do not forget their drunkenness. When the sun is eclipsed Their noble and the vulgar skulls simultaneously rise. Who could expect they squeezed into the dream hotel and tossed their fate aside. They had to seriously consider the special program, Every detail every detail disguised.