Fireworks are flying, snow is falling, the Yellow River is cold, the sun is setting on the ancient road, and the west wind is blowing. The jade gate is closed and the beacon fire is thick. Rebound Pipa and ask who is the hero?
Camel bells tinkled and flutes sounded, and fine wine and golden goblets bloomed red. Iron horses and silver guns in the battlefield. Wherever I go, the sky is filled with hatred and blue blood.