Great Feng Night Watchman

Preface: The youthful heroism, forging bonds with the strongest of the Five Capitals. With a heart wide open, and hair standing on end. Standing and speaking, life and death are the same. A promise worth a thousand gold. Pushing forward with bravery, proud and unrestrained. Lightly swaying the cover, the flying whip, fighting in the eastern city. Roaring and drinking at the wine cauldron, the spring colors rising in the cold urn, inhaling the sea and gazing at the rainbow. Calling on the eagle and urging the hounds, white feathers plucking the eagle bow, the cunning hole suddenly empty. The joy is hurried. Like a fleeting dream of millet, bidding farewell to the Vermilion Phoenix; sharing the bright moon, drifting like a lonely tumbleweed. The bureaucracy is tiresome, filled with hurried thoughts; dust falls and is trapped, records pile up. Crowds with their hats like clouds, offering only coarse uses, but suddenly achieving remarkable feats. The sound of the horn and drum stirs, the fishermen play, thoughts turn to the sad old man. Without asking for long braids, binding the heavens' pride, the sword howling in the western wind. Regret for climbing mountains and facing waters, sending off the returning swan with a seven-stringed pipa in hand.