A song in the deep tent of the red building, who can pity me even if my kindness is cut off?
When the ruthlessness is at its most dazzling, thousands of miles of yellow flowers bury the face.
The love songs fall down several times, and they dance before the autumn rain hits.
Most of all, the sound of the flute can no longer be heard, and the sky is covered with red clouds in sorrow.
——Double Carp