The moon is cold and the wind is cold. I go up to the west tower alone, with only a shadow of Gu Hong under my shadow.
A pot of wine, a little drunk, the night is hazy, the trees are whistling.
We had promised to see the beautiful mountains and rivers together, but now only one person is left alone to get drunk on the high-rise building.
I wonder if I can see you again in this life, snapping my fingers and laughing at the spring breeze.