Flowers in the next pot of wine, no friends, drink alone.
Until, holding up my cup, I asked the bright moon to bring me my shadow and let the three of us.
The moon doesn't know how to drink, but the shadow in front of it is behind.
But there was still a time when I had these friends and cheered me through the end of spring (2).
The song I sing is bright and wandering, and I dance the shadow before wandering.
Wake up and be happy together, and disperse after drunkenness.
Will goodwill be guaranteed? I think the Milky Way is a long way.