The blood-soaked mountains and rivers are about to collapse, and the lonely boat is heading south.
A silver needle cannot sustain a life of scars, and the name of my motherland hangs empty on the remaining scrolls.
The sword and halberd is buried in the dense miasma of Qianling Mountains, and the cold moon of Erhai Lake shines on the empty camp.
And the bones of the Han Dynasty will be carried on the whale waves, and the history of Qing Dynasty will be known overseas without being written down.
