The night of singing alone under the moon is over,
We will not meet each other in this life or the next.
Prosperity passes away, flowers bloom,
Several layers of pavilions, and finally a song of farewell.
What is sorrow, what is resentment?
The world of mortals is like a dream, sometimes relieved and sometimes resentful.
Thousands of times, I laugh.
Why, I still can't find it?