This autumn is particularly bleak. The sky is high and the clouds are light, and the autumn wind is eager to reunite with friends. And I, standing on the top of the mountain watching all this, feel the chill of autumn. The river in the distance is crystal clear, and groups of people fly back to the beach at low altitude and snuggle up to each other. I am the only one, listening to the cries of apes telling endless worries for me.

Looking up, the leaves withered bit by bit, and it fell one by one, silently. But it was rolled up by the ruthless autumn wind, endless, until it disappeared into my sight. Bow your head, the Yangtze River keeps flowing, the river is rolling, surging, splashing and moving forward. Who knows if there is an end, and if anyone feels the same way as me?

I wander alone thousands of miles away and live in other places all the year round. I can only look up at the Mid-Autumn Festival and get drunk just to forget loneliness. Since my old age, my health is getting worse every day. I am lucky to climb the mountain alone today.

The hardships of the times and life make my sideburns pale as frost. But who can understand? Now when it comes to wine, you can only stop at your mouth. My body can't take it anymore. I can't even drink bad wine. ...

Now, on this high mountain, looking at the vast and empty scenery and the desolation of autumn, my heart hurts. This sad and lonely heart, alas ...

I don't know if it's ok