Are there seventy-two sections in Xiahedong of Shaanxi Opera?

Note: This lyric is selected from "Chop Li Guang" (this is Li Guang of Li Guangfei, the Emperor of the Western Han Dynasty), and it is called "seventy-two can't be repeated" in Shaanxi Opera. Described the feelings of a framed general before his death, and reviewed his state affairs, family affairs and his own experience. The so-called roar of Qin opera is obvious in this aria. It takes nearly forty minutes to sing the whole paragraph, so it is difficult for ordinary actors to sing the whole paragraph.

Today, when I was caught by a thief, I had to hook my head with a steel knife.

We can no longer learn to perform martial arts etiquette, and we can no longer discuss the reasons for leaving today in archaeology.

I can't go to see the person in charge of Wu Wen Wumen again, and I can't go to the classroom to fix this.

We can no longer arrive in the Chamber ahead of time and tell all courtiers that we can no longer stand up for our country.

We can no longer welcome the king to drive nine ports, and we can no longer share our worries with the people and the country.

I can no longer be the leader of the temple and the army, nor can I lead the troops out of Kyoto.

You can't teach martial arts at school anymore, and someone will teach you later.

We can no longer train soldiers to practice martial arts and be good at it.

We can no longer kill the East and West, conquer the South and conquer the North, and we can no longer be thieves in the Spring and Autumn Period.

We can no longer kill thieves and walk away, and we can no longer kill thieves and surrender.

If you can't win again, you can also play the song of triumph, if you can't hold the letter back to Beijing.

You can't drink any more wine. You can't leave your name on the credit card.

We can no longer cross the territory with helmets and armor, nor can we hang and seal them.

You can no longer wear golden helmets and three kings, and you can no longer wear embroidered robes to hang silk.

You can no longer wear a jade belt to buckle your waist, and you can no longer wear your feet on boots with foundation.

You can't walk in the East Gate and swim in the West Gate.

I can't go to Qi Minle Tianlu again, and I can't play Wufenglou any more.

We can't idle summer seedlings in spring and move to winter to hunt wild animals in autumn, and we can't swim in the garden any more.

No more lyre playing strings, no more chess waiting.

No more poems, no more pictures of animals.

No more kowtowing in front of the ancestral temple, no more burning paper money in the grave.

You can't get married for a long time, and you can't teach your son to blaspheme books.

I can't go back to my hometown to meet the young and old, and I can't get together with my relatives and friends.

We can no longer save the famine for the people, and we can no longer watch the people grazing cattle and horses.

We can no longer lead the army to block water for the people, and we can no longer prevent drought in summer and autumn.

We can no longer watch people plow the fields, nor can we watch the harvest in the suburbs.

No more brotherly hands, no more national humiliation.

No more fighting with thieves, no more hoeing for the country.

You can't hit the horse thief in the mouth any more, and you can't go against this traitor any more.

When I was seventy-two years old, I lost my life in the hands of a thief. Do I regret changing my knife to kill my wife and save the queen mother?

Come and have a rest, once you lose your great achievements.

The old ox worked hard, but Li Guang failed to go to the end for his country.

Knife and axe hand, keep moving!