Sung by: The Journey Brothers
If the color of the moon has faded, I'll redraw it with my thoughts
Lotus flower drop in the pond water Halo opening the beautiful cycle
The ancient fiber road holding you to walk for three or four times
Liangzhu transformed butterfly dance into the landscape of the East Lake
The slightly drunken daughter of the red is easy to get drunk, not afraid of the lonely pursuit of the alley depths
On the eight bridges, you are facing the wind and timidly waiting for whoever you want
Fuyu flavor carved flower wine is the best match
Huangmei tune is the best match for you. Whom are you waiting for
Fennel flavored carving wine is the best match
The Yellow Plum Tune is euphemistically folded across the north of the town
The stele engraved in the Southern Song Dynasty's regular script has been passed down to the grass grows long and the warblers fly
Regret is at the end of the poem surrounded tenderly by the water of Lake Jianhu
The poem was written by me with my heart and mind
I have made a cocoon of my stomach's ink to tie up someone's tear
Who's tear I tied up with the ink in my belly?
You know what to say, and you've made me laugh at my madness, and I've been drinking wine and playing the zither
You've urged me to say goodbye to you at the Lanting
Have you tied the red thread for me yet
Mumble to me under the eaves of the spring swallows, and snuggle up with me in the Wu language
If the moon fades, I'll redraw the picture in my thoughts
Lotus flowers fall into the pond, and a beautiful reincarnation is spread out
The eighteenth time I sent you off. The bridge, I hate it
It's too early for us to tie the knot before our birthdays
How can I help it? You and I are birds of the same feather
Leaving us alone at night, the candles are shining on us
I've heard that Xizi laughed at a fish that fell into the water
But you are more beautiful than an orchid that sways like an orchid
I'm casting a coin by the pool of the King of the Yue, and I'm tearing up like a broken willow flower
You're not in the homeland, melancholy about the sound of the cicadas.
You're with me in the smoke of the crow's nest
Xu Qingteng wields his brush to make flowers and birds ghostly
The flavor of the Shanyin style is still hard to catch up with a hundred years ago
Poetry, books, songs and songs are tired and I've spent my life with you
I've written a poem with a hidden title with all my heart
I've used my belly to make a cocoon of ink to tie up someone's tears
You'll see. I'm laughing at you, I'm crazy, I'm drinking wine and playing the zither
You've got to say goodbye to the lanting
Have you tied the red thread yet
Mumbling under the eaves, the swallows return to me in early spring, and I'm snuggling up with them in the Wu dialect
If the moon fades I'll redraw the picture with my thoughts
Lotus flowers fall into the pond, and a beautiful cycle is spreading out
I've written with my heart, I've written with my heart.