Mr. Ling had a dream last night.
In the dream, her long hair was straight and her sleeves were fluttering.
A song of longing for faraway places will make your heart go away after drinking wine.
Playing the strings with your fingers makes people smile three times.
Mr. Ling had that dream again last night.
The lamp holds the candlelight and sheds dim light,
Old appearance of paper-cut woman by the window.
If the brightness gradually fades away,
Holding the brocade button and embroidering the embroidery, I will not give in to you for a long time.
Mr. Ling had that dream for the last time.
There are beacon fires to offer sacrifices to the dead city,
She returned home in white clothes like flowing clouds.
Ignorant and come here to find peace,
The three good stories are merely fantasies.