Born in troubled times, obsessed with going there. If the flowers pass away without inspiration, they will return to silence. You guard your empty city, and I will climb my tower. I miss you deeply, but we are strangers after all. It is the rainy season again, the butterflies are dancing, the wine is clear, and the fragrance of flowers is remembered...
Wherever you hear the solitary flute, wherever the dust is stirred up, the grass grows and the orioles fly, the flowing fireflies chase...
Year after year, I think in vain, and the horizon is ups and downs...
It's like lying down at night, listening to the dim light, the wind blowing snow...
There are bursts of sheng and xiao, sad tunes, century-old ruins, vague dreams, and heartbreak at the end of the world.
The glass is silent, dazzling the world, its eyes are sacrifices, its lonely soul is empty.