The son of decline, after many ups and downs, became a slave in jade clothes.
The palace is so crowded, who can withstand a word of love?
He has a jade face and a golden body, a brocade fan gently swaying, a smile that captivates the city, and a hundred charms;
He, leaning on the tower, smiles for whom in jade clothes, looking closely at the peach blossoms, falling in the autumn;
He, when we meet in sad times, wandering between sorrow and joy, his purple belt is wide, and he smiles as usual;
Singing low on a rainy night, changing into red clothes, looking forward to each other:. ． Growing old together. ． ． ． ． ．