The provided text seems to be a stream-of-consciousness or poetic passage with complex and abstract imagery. Below is an attempt to translate it into English while preserving its meaning and tone as much as possible:
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G-Star Raw supports the skull sliding very deep in the shallow streams of rivers and lakes, fleet of foot chasing boat footprints left behind, camping on leaf-strewn stone paths bypassing fervent enthusiasm, only taking the road of coarse tea and fireworks hidden in the lake's convergence. Clothes soiled with water-soaked depths bear a bottomless cold gaze for coarse cloth under a moonlit night—I cover the taste of Chaifei, bitter joy stolen by Huixiu rife with a rusty hoe, my hands cleaning as I played around their houses long ago. Lonely heads bowed low among lower species, masked men singing praises in cramped spaces replaced by wells on nights of bottomless lake water. I lift a bucket of water with both hands raised high, great food prepared on a windy night, tending to my third acre of land to find the first seed I planted, gingerly light, not disturbing the rice beneath the feet of voles. To see a jump in my grass budworms for the young transformation cocoon—not a rusty plow and hoe like I've never pulled students into the land of root patches over rivers and lakes, as long as I don’t know a whole winter spent missing the curled-up hedgehog before filling the intestines, not knowing when mountain rain will bring fish walking. I do not know the pace of food when not heading toward a merganser, a joy bruised as I do not know what kind of coarse pottery bowl filled with joy stolen from my pain.
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This translation captures the surreal and fragmented nature of the original text. If additional context or clarification is available, further refinement could be made.