The jade pot has an ice heart.
Zhu Bi wrote about the soul of a teacher.
Eagerly like my father's language,
Talk like friends.
A few lines of faint words,
Impress a lifetime.
I hope that the latecomers,
Report the success to the master.
Outside the pavilion, beside the ancient road, the grass is blue.
The evening breeze blows the flute, and the sunset is beyond the mountain.
The horizon, the horizon, intimate friends are half scattered.
Life is once in a blue moon, only parting.
Outside the pavilion, beside the ancient road, the grass is blue.
When will you return this? Don't hesitate to come.
The horizon, the horizon, intimate friends are half scattered.
A pot of turbid water has spilled all the joy, so let's bid farewell to Meng Han tonight.