Red crisp hands, yellow wine, spring scenery all over the city and willows on the palace walls;
The east wind is evil and happiness is thin,
With a heavy heart and a few years of separation,
Wrong, wrong, wrong.
Spring is as old as ever, people are thin and empty, and the tears are red and silky;
Peach blossoms fall, Xianchi Pavilion,
Although the mountain alliance is there, it is difficult to trust the brocade book.
Mo, mo, mo.
The world is thin, people are evil, the rain brings dusk and the flowers fall easily;
The morning wind dries, leaving traces of tears,
When I want to write down my thoughts, I talk alone on the side rails.
Difficult, difficult, difficult.
People are different, today is not yesterday, and the sick soul is always like a rope on a swing;
The sound of the horn is cold, the night is dark,
Afraid of being asked, I swallow my tears and pretend to be happy,
Conceal, conceal, conceal.