The red dust dissipates and people go away,
Dyed with sadness.
The waning moon is empty,
The moonlight is deserted.
It's just that the autumn wind is bleak,
The face is radiant.
Suffering from the pain of thousands of years of ice secretly,
Thousands of years of cold weather,
So why not?
Cold sleeves flick,
Pear blossoms are scattered all over the ground,
It smells like a dream.
The sword light is so sharp that people return,
The beautiful woman sheds tears.
West Chengyue died,
The east rises and the silver falls.
But if the sword cuts through the ice,
Revenge has not been avenged.
The dark night disappears with the wind,
Smiling softly like a dream,
Secretly laughing at himself.
Shed tears,
Looking back at the joys and sorrows,
The fragrance is still lingering.