Time is getting late, and the vicissitudes of life have changed. Year after year, by the Miluo River, women in plain skirts dance all day long.
The bright sun rises in the east again, and the bright moon shines brightly for thousands of miles. Year after year, at the foot of Kilo Mountain, I spend my whole life wearing sackcloth and coarse cloth.
I wrote you into the war song and into the flowers of the prosperous age. I responded to your invitation. From then on, the fire and brimstone went away, and I came to the beautiful Eden. I'm waiting for you to break the thorns of the past, step through the boundless snow, and pick up the spear of victory from the wind and rain. The stories of heroes will be written in the history books.
Intention: Love the pain of separation