The scenery of my hometown is beautiful,
During the season of falling flowers.
Night wind scales,
Must I ****,
Explaination-The Emperor kills his mistress.
Spirits be drawn,
A morning sun rises,
Is not the blossoming flowers,
A beautiful sight upon the early dew.
A cold, frosty mountain last night,
A warm, radiant field this morning.
Specks of dust,
Among the sand.
A person's melancholy life
Rivers flow through the capital,
Crimson lakes on an ember night.
This one is pretty easy one to understand.
The wilted crane,
The crimson flower,
Too far to fly,
Too beautiful to pick,
Destined to never reach.
A single hesitation is a dozen years.
Blood soaked flowers,
I will leave before you.
"I just wish to see you one last time, at last, it's too late."
I'll let you analyze it this time.