There is no fixed distance between ancient and modern rivers and mountains.
Amid the sound of horns being drawn, horses come and go frequently.
Who can talk about the desolation?
The west wind blows the old red maple tree.
There used to be countless grievances.
The iron horse fights, the road to Qingzhong at dusk.
How deep is the love?
The sunset in the deep mountains and the deep autumn rain.