Under the shade of drunken flowers, the moment of beauty, the water chestnut flowers shed tears of cinnabar;
There is prosperity in the song, fireworks in the dream, who cares about it?
Years pass by, and we remember each other with this feeling;
This love is nothing more than getting drunk with fireworks. I wonder if you will return?
The swallows go and come back, the tea flowers bloom and there is no reason to get drunk;
The blue and yellow springs are gone and the red dust is gone, and it is hard to find them. Looking back a hundred years ago.