The jade fingers are chilling, the Yao Qin is icy, the poor mulberry soup is spreading, I want to ask for the stars, I forget the river and the stars are far away, when will the sky be filled with jade warmth?
Nine lingering fantasy green, jade dome is cold, floating life is long, chanting to the moon sky, divorced Qiu Ze, how long will it take to die?
A song on the piano and flute is empty, and a low chant is gone, leaving only wisps of the breeze.