In the bamboo forest of Nanming, I hear the sound of flutes every day, and occasionally the fragrance of wine overflows, but it is difficult to hear the sound of the sea. When I first saw it, the day was bright, and the trees and flowers were blooming, and their pale traces adorned the sky.
That's Kuafu Taolin, dressed in white, lying on a branch fishing; that's the Buddha Bell Pavilion, burning incense and worshiping the moon, wearing a few blue shirts. At that time, they drank wine, danced with flowers, and discussed swords, and the gentle sounds of Yaoqin expressed their feelings. And that night, the moonlight was quiet, and you came from the horizon just to watch the scenery with me. The snow falls and the frost blooms, that is when hatred arises. You freeze the plum forest and cover up all the appearances. When the summer heat is high and the sun is rising, we are admiring the mountains and seas in the glass, and painting the clear elixirs. You and I are sitting cross-legged in the room, I face everything, my back is to you, and you stand by the door, blocking out the sword-fighting outside.
The yellow sand and Gobi are so carefree. No one knows you or me. Iron horses, mountains and rivers, frontier fortresses and beacons. You are behind me here, so there is nothing to be afraid of.
I would like my soul to return to my hometown, a forest of bamboos and peach trees. I don't know your words or your intentions.
At the end of the white clouds, you hold the divine bow in your hand, fighting for your life with your life. After all, this heart and this scene are filled with tears, I vaguely see flowers falling, and I hear the sound of bells in a trance, just like your teachings years ago, and also like your silent greetings. Never let others hear about it.
Intention: Good is good, evil is evil