Eight hundred underworlds, between the other shores.
Three bloody journeys, with no future to worry about?
A hundred years old, the moonlight is covered with dust,
On the road to the devil's sea, I am alone.
On the road to the other side, my heart is sad and painful,
The faint morning bell, the dim drum at dusk;
The sacred charm of the lotus flower has no desire to be detached from the vulgar world.
At the top of Kunlun, the moonlight reappears,
The chess game in the Northern Territory is a legend through the ages.
Intention: Big self and small self? What is right and wrong? Which one is right or wrong?