Ruan Lang returns·Missing you, you will not return
The ruins of the old scenery remain as they were before, and the human sentiments are no longer there.
There is still half a running script left when the wild geese return, and the writing becomes even sparse after autumn.
The armor is cold, the fur is warm, and the love is soothed by wine.
In troubled times, acquaintance is always empty, how can it be compared to a dream without.
(…I didn't really want to write lyrics in the middle of the night, so I borrowed the original words from my predecessors and made slight changes.)