Where will Xiao wake up from his drunkenness today? On the bank of willows, the dawn wind wanes and the moon falls.
I don't have any wine, so I can't get drunk after all, and I can't enjoy the feeling of being drunk.
Waning moon, waning moon, is my name what this poem suggests.
Before I was born, I was already old?
I don't believe in fate, or the so-called past and present lives.
But why, why, just like that sentence:
The one you love is gone, the one you don't love will not cherish you, and the one you cherish will never come back...
Is my life like a fleeting time, gone by and never coming back...