A hundred years of history are filled with sorrow, especially remembering the Marquis of Chang Le from those years.
The hall was filled with flowers, intoxicating three thousand guests; a single sword’s frost chilled fifty states!
Does Heaven know the illness of the Mortal World? The green mountains laugh at me as clouds beckon.
In front of flowers, I carefully sniff the fragrance of beauties; under the moon, I lightly take the heads of my enemies!
Success and failure, gratitude and vengeance, a heart-wrenching wine, transformed into a Song of Chang Le.
Please lend me your ear and listen, and we shall get drunk together a thousand years from now!
