Ten years of life and death are confusing.
The most vivid memories are of dancing with swords in the world of mortals, riding horses on the battlefield, and the passionate youthful days.
The beacon smoke slowly cleared away from the dust.
For half of my life, my body was like duckweed, my life was hanging on a knife, and I could sing heart-breaking songs in my dreams.
The wind and clouds are changing, the chivalrous bones are fragrant, where are you at the end of the world?
Make wine under the moon and cool the night breeze.
By then the person had passed away, who would complain about the injury?