Fifty years of light and shadow flow, and a hundred years of winter and spring. Look at the yellow sand, like a mighty river surging in the wind and residual clouds.
Who is wasting time? Who is sensationalizing? Who dares to take life and death lightly?
A pipa with a string, a wanderer wandering in troubled times.
Flowing frost and flying ice trampling on the snow and mud, steel and iron bones shattering mountains and rivers, who is like the swallow in front of the hall, breaking the gong's voice, and the beauty sings.
Wealth and glory are difficult to maintain forever, but the country's broken mountains and rivers are still there.
Who is the craziest? The thieves are in power, the bones are full of diseases, the people's homes are in Wuyi Lane.
Swallows are dancing in front of the hall, willows are hanging by the stream, neither life nor death, the sand is yellow and the grass is white. In the dream, I don't know that I am a guest, and I have been reincarnated in the human world for thousands of years.
Wandering and helpless, the rotting grass is like a firefly, joining and leaving at the same time, adhering to the rules, living in drunken dreams and dying today, and emerging in the future.
Unable to look back, unable to find relief, I cried loudly, beat my chest and stamped my feet, and the smoke of the past disappeared in a flash.
Intention: drink tea
