Weary travelers from the end of the world ride on the wind to return home. I don't know what year it is today.
The country is like a painting, life is like a dream,
Don't come here for a few spring and autumn years.
The clouds and the water are long.
The rain in my mouth is filled with sorrow, my eyes are red and burning, and the cold wind blows through the small building.
A smile when we meet is the front edge.
Jade Tower and Golden Tower return lazily,
The bright moon is together, chatting with the water and sky, and the rest of my life in the river and sea.