Forget about the world, forget about the wind and smoke, forget about the right and wrong, forget about the past years. All old traces and scars. In the end, all that was left was exhaustion. It's not the wine that's drunk, it's not the flowers that smell the fragrance. I have whipped a famous horse because I was drunk, for fear that my love would mislead a beautiful woman. Happiness, how far is it from me?