Riding a horse through the world of mortals, Chang'an arrives again.
The human face is still as beautiful as a flower.
Old joys are blooming, but they are divided by new sorrows.
Before the dream of clouds and rain comes true, Wushan dawns.
Thousands of miles of heartbreaking, Guanshan ancient road.
Looking back at Gaocheng, it looks like the sky is disappearing.
Full of separation and hatred, I give it to falling flowers and singing birds.
Where is the old friend?
Youth is old.