There are some plums in the corner, and cold ling opens them alone.
Raise my cup, I invite the bright moon, which brings me its shadow and makes us three people.
Flowers in the next pot of wine, no friends, drink alone.
The birds flew without a trace, leaving the lonely clouds free and unfettered.
Who reads the west wind alone, rustling yellow leaves and closing the window, reminiscing about the past and setting the sun.
I leaned alone in the dense bamboo, playing the piano and humming a song.