Where to find the yellow crane?

Only the long sky is left behind,

White clouds fly by.

The good night of the past has become a festive occasion,

Suspecting that it is a mistake,

Who has ever thought that a promise of a thousand pieces of gold?

What is the reason for this?

It is only a matter of time before the end of the world to ask a question:

Flower in the mirror,

Month in the water.

A thousand years ago, the Red Cliff was left behind,

and in the storm, north and south of the Yangtze River,

dragons and tigers jumped.

The mountains are dyed with the color of heroes,

The cold stars twinkle in the sky,

Five thousand years of unwillingness to be lonely.

Drunkenly lying in the Long Pavilion and sighing,

Watching the flowers blossom and fall on earth:

The winds of autumn are rising,

and the sound of the wind is serene.

2. The Fishing Father's Drawing

The spring breeze blows the blue trees,

The red dust is hard to be broken,

A parting sorrow.

Even if I don't have an inch of merit to repay the heavens,

My heart is still as strong as ever,

and I don't pray for divine help from the heavens.

The world is running out of water,

Only the heroes walk alone to the end of the world:

Look at the flying boat,

And the south crossing.

Where does a floating leaf return?

Sighing at the past,

A sad scene.

Thousands of rivers and mountains still exist today,

Ten thousand lofty feelings are difficult to tell,

Spring and Autumn in the wind and rain a few times.

There will be a time when I will go up to the sky again,

Why do I have to ask the sky for thousands of sentences?

Drive the flying horse,

and go to the sky.

3. Autumn Mountains

The geese fly south again,

The sky is endless,

and the setting sun is hard to catch up with.

Boundless wildfire burns the barren grass,

All the way to the heap of stones,

Burying can not be exhausted,

Dust residual ash.

Only the rolling waters of the Yangtze River,

the latter wave still pushes the former wave:

To eliminate,

yes and no.

The self-proclaimed invulnerability,

How much have you suffered for that?

Rain and wind.

The wind on the table is ninety thousand miles,

The drums of war are beating again under the pen,

How has the tiger ever lost his tiger's might?

For the sake of reunion,

It is impossible for me to return home.

To whom,

is the sadness told?

4. The micro

The mention of this life,

I do not know how many walks?

Spring, summer, fall and winter.

When I was young, my heart was in the right place,

It was also in the right place.

To this day, who will listen to me?

One can't afford to sing anymore,

and the human condition is as cold as ice:

I can't hear you,

I'm singing.

A dream wakes up and everything is empty,

To the mirror, the sadness is not reduced,

white hairs grow in vain.

It's just a matter of hiding in Emei Mountain,

being a monk,

and letting the world go cold and quiet.

Good men have the courage of the year,

Don't talk about what was once:

Disappeared in,

the cold wind.