Hai Ri is born and the night is over, and Jiang Chun is entering the old year. The moon in the sea sheds tears, and the warm sun in Lantian produces smoke. The lotus leaves touching the sky are infinitely green, and the lotus flowers reflecting the sun are uniquely red. The green mountains on both sides of the strait stand out from each other, and a solitary sail comes from the sun. Black clouds are pressing down on the city, threatening to destroy it, and the light of armor opens towards the golden scales of the sun. Thousands of miles away, the ancient city is closed in the long smoke and the setting sun. During the day, I climbed the mountain to watch the beacon fire, and at dusk, I drank my horse by crossing the river. When I was free to fish on the Bixi River, I suddenly took a boat and dreamed of the sun.
(In addition, the typo on the first floor was wrong. It should be "poor on the third night of September, the dew is like pearls and the moon is like a bow" without the word "日")