The flowers are in good season, young and beautiful, and the falling cherry blossoms and catkins are flying on the beautiful jade flute.
Travel through the rivers and lakes, fight for chivalry, and cut off the remaining shadows with ruthless swords.
The red candles are scattered, the green snow is cold, and I lean on the railing with my frosty temples covered.
Weeping farewell to the wine, drunk on the flower path, leaving an empty tomb alone facing the cold moon.
I asked him if he ever regretted following me down the mountain? He just smiled indifferently, leaving me alone for the rest of my life.