The lonely smoke in the desert, the clear song is blown by the wind; the horse carries the sword, the vastness is accompanied by the clouds.
Beauty in troubled times, looking at the sails on the river in the distance; when spring goes and autumn comes back, I don't see the man returning to the boat.
The shadow is alone and forlorn; the beauty looks back and chokes up.
Since ancient times, it is difficult to find a true friend; how can it be difficult to find a lover?