Most of the people crying on the battlefield are the ghosts of the newly killed soldiers, only the old people who are sad to write poems.
At dusk, suddenly snowflakes are dancing in the wind.
The gourd is discarded, the wine vessel has no wine, and the stove is red.
The news of the front-line battle and the news of his wife and sisters are unknown. Sadness sits in the air with his hands in the air.
This poem shows Du Fu's deep concern for the fate of the country and his relatives, but he can't concentrate on it.