I feel sorry for my husband. It's dusk. If you don't drink it, you'll get drunk. Can't afford to live in clouds and smoke, far away from Penglai's hometown. Don't blame the monster, the soul has been bound. Guess the place in the mist and think of Nong Yu's flute. Sorrow is hard to understand, and the staff is empty. Ren rewelding cares about his confidant, but now, Hong Fei's old dream has faded. Then ask each other in autumn and shed red tears. Looking forward to you, Yantou Weiyan. I hate the lack of red hands when making tea. How can the carved column have the taste of that time? He left the moon to have a rest and seek sleep.
Forget each other's heartache, count the evenings, don't send Xiao Long away, and find a new drunkenness. The red chamber can't afford to lie down, and the spring dream is deep. Don't be ridiculous, crazy and unruly. Wandering around the smoke condensation by the railing, because the wind is clear and the moon is bright. Understand your mind, with a flick of your finger. Looking for a bosom friend in the blue sea, I should have dreamed an old dream and drifted away. I can't ask what love is, so I don't make tears. Especially the body, the pavilion is at the stern of the boat. Singing is a delicate hand, and the mountains are heavy and the water is natural. Want to dream, but also sleep.