In the middle of the night, I heard the song of Wu rising again, and the boat sailed thousands of miles across the river.
Sit down and end the battle in the southeast, pouring tears into the moon. I can't find lasting happiness in this world. I look back at my old friend Huang Liang's dream. I have spent half my life worrying about my fame in vain, and my country is desolate and my bones are mourning.
The country remains picturesque, but where are the old friends now? In the past, the bright moon once shone on me, but in the old days my spirit was desolate today.
Intention: Machiavellian tactics will eventually lead to failure.