yi yu zong heng ji

An Han is far away, and the countryside is thousands of miles away. The green shirt and green sleeves brush the old dream, and the yellow earth and red dust cover the years. Don't say anything later.
An Hanyuan, the clouds come and go. The moon falls and the stars move nowhere, like flowers, cherishing the years, and the fingers are on the strings.
An Hanyuan, thousands of Hu riders continue. General Zhiqi of Changsha smiled, and the people looked eastward. When will they see the Central Plains?
Anhan is far away, and the western border is snowy and sunny. The fragrance of the curtain is curling, and the dream is full of preparation, and the dream awakens the name of the man.