Lyrics of Hetu's white clothes

Who ever searched for me in the deep rain at the gate of the city

Carved mountains and rivers, the moon shines at night

How many songs have I left to sing

The pen and ink that are wielded in accordance with the orders are all eliminated by Qi Luo

Who knows I'm poor and proud

Who ever waited for me in the fireworks alley

The flower wall that opened again and again defeated, leave mottled only

Who did I laugh with under the flowers

A woman with celadon like water, smiling in peace

Only when the months and years are still and withered can we know that we are no longer young

The wind blows away the dead leaves and shakes off the empty cicadas

In the garden full of peonies

Singing on the stage and hanging a bead curtain

How can I surprise my pen

This white dress is ordinary and habitual

The new words were sung eight or nine times in one night;

Change the broken string Pipa and return again;

The long Pavilion is late;

The white clothes are fetters and weariness

Who will overturn the wine when the cup is empty and full

I'll be drunk if I toss the scroll

Even if you can't see clearly in front of you

Who does not change the red chamber tour, carrying no sorrow

Full of poetry for hot wine, this game how to go

After the curtain of beads

How vast is the dust of the Loess

See autumn light rain sad, fame and beauty with tonight

The wind blows away the dead leaves and shakes off the empty cicadas

In the garden full of peonies

Singing on the stage and hanging a bead curtain

How can I surprise my pen

This white dress is ordinary and habitual

The new words were sung eight or nine times in one night

Change the broken string Pipa and come back again

Singing to wine

The taste remains the same

This white dress is forever

The lamp oil is dry tonight

I'm not half done with the story

Who helped me make it up in the past

Step on a white tree

One bridge light rain, one umbrella open

A dream, a pot of wine

A life of white clothes

This white dress is ordinary and habitual

The new words were sung eight or nine times in one night

Change the broken string Pipa and come back again

Singing to wine

The taste remains the same

This white dress is forever

The lamp oil is dry tonight

I'm not half done with the story

Who helped me make it up in the past