The wind is raging and the world is in a hurry. It is difficult to describe the illusion, and it is difficult to explain the melancholy. People have joys and sorrows, and the moon waxes and wanes. This matter is ancient and difficult to complete. The autumn wind is bleak and the waves are rising. On the ancient road, the west wind blows and the horse is thin, the sun sets in the west, and the heartbroken man is at the end of the world. The flowers are swaying in the wind and blooming mercilessly. Why wait for tomorrow? Everything will be wasted. Lying stiffly in a lonely village, I don't feel sorry for myself. I still think about guarding the Luntai for my country. I lie down at night and listen to the wind and rain. I fall into sleep with my iron horse on the glacier.