Outside the pass there are piles of corpses and smelly grass and trees, but in the capital city people are still drinking and drinking, living like duckweeds and people like grass.
They turned the tide during the war, they found their souls in the storm, and they drank and sang before the moon set and the crow crows.
"Drunk and singing is like a bright moon"
"I will make the autumn white as the remaining frost"
Intention: Reminiscing in fantasy