Try to misinterpret the beauty as a deer
Plum blossoms are always drunk on the river bank with sparse moonlight
Swinging in the general’s bow and arrow Becoming a cat
Everything shrouded in green shadow
is covered with the mark of plum blossoms
The deer in the previous life did not have skin yet; Did not return
The age of cats, the desperate beauty
Facing the river of twilight, she was killed by her own bow and arrow
The general ate people, all People, all the girls holding flowers
All lives abandoned the world, parading on the coffin
Like a few disheveled shadows of the past