That winter was a flying Prajna
You bloomed a bright stem but broke three branches of memory
Whose silence took away whose colorful clothes?
Who refuses to take a curtain call? Who will always be prosperous?
The desolation under forbearance blooms one, two, and three fragments
The place where endless memories come from is crowded with vague angels
A country without sorrow, grass full of sorrow
The years lost in the grass keep flying south with the birds flying south
North of Mohe North of North Pole
The broken string of Liuzhang and the darkened tomb of soul
And I, from ancient times
He is just a hunter with forgotten memories standing in the wind
No way forward, no way back
Free, lonely, unruly, unruly, ferocious, gentle, wandering, eternal life