The cold wind, smoke and rain make me sad and drunk alone in the small window
How many times have flowers bloomed and fallen, and how many times has the moon returned?
The tears in the eyes are broken from the intestines, and the setting sun is a bit sad
The cold moon and ice leave people in tears, the beauty is faded and the beauty is haggard.
Drinking thousands of cups alone, dreaming and dreaming, getting drunk many times
Looking across the horizon, I asked my old friend: When will I return?
Conception: