I dropped my cloak. Sighing Hanyuan Qin Gong, dripping dew flies fireflies. In the dream, the sky was covered with gold and silver screens. Songs strive for youth. When asked about the problems left over at that time, there were unique skills and drums. The funeral bomb is like a warbler whispering, and the mountains are flowing. Liyuan Taiping Yuefu, drunk by several spring breeze, turned into stars. Dance breaks through the Central Plains, dust flies into the sea, and snow flies into Wan Li Longting.