How many Iraqis are sighing,
The flowers have been blown away before they bloom much.
The ground is full of British remnants, and the coolness is infinite.
Cold, cold, cold.
Turn around, the autumn wind is rolling,
Turn to Shan Lan,
Xianglong hairpin, rockhopper,
There is no joy on it, only tears are broken,
Difficult, difficult, difficult.
Or another song:
The past is over,
In your dream, there is no sound in your head.
Singing and dancing lightly is not the heart,
Can mei tears like rain.