Chapter 40 Hearing sparrows in the cold wind

Hearing sparrows in the cold wind The dry branches lament in the cold wind, Dead leaves wither on the road; The sparrows are singing the scallion dew song, Half of it is self-harm. The road is lonely and desolate, There is silence on the upper floors, Only the solitary sparrow, Accompanied by a lonely young man. The cold wind has blown the old leaves, Even blowing on the temples of young and old, In his sorrowful bosom again, Blow away all the warmth. Sing, sympathetic sparrow, Sing through my fragrant dreams; Blow, pitiless wind, Blow off my precarious life.