Far away in eternity, on the banks of the Coom River, a storm raged;
Who is it, sighing in the tomb of the sun?
In several midnight dreams, I was alive, but it seemed like I was dead.
Under the setting sun, I once sang to wine,
Beacon fires and wars broke out for the prosperity of the ancient Silk Road;
He is tied to Loulan, half-covered in red makeup, and imprisoned in the Han Dynasty.
Qionglou Yuyu, painted buildings and flying rafts;
Unable to hide the evil of human nature, power and status are in vain;
Let me ask, whose eyes are confused by the random flowers.
I miss the gold of Taklama and the green of Lop Nur;
Until the seasons change and the soul returns to its hometown,
After all, am I still the bride of Loulan?