Lyrics of "nomads" by Xuanyuan

nomadic people

I beat the drums and started to exile from my hometown,

Passing by the silver salt lake, looking back to the water source.

The unnamed shore, the cracked stone pillars,

Guess there's history here.

I listen and sing the most tender words,

He is the coldest warrior in battle clothes,

Forget who's in the sun's hand,

Say goodbye quietly.

Half across the crossbow, I lost my way in the four seasons,

The setting sun is the temperature of spring and summer.

Lingding white bone, a bunch of wild flowers in autumn,

The bonfire was lit and the frost and snow were light.

Listen to my words,

He is the coldest warrior in battle clothes,

Forget who is full of dawn or sunset in his hand,

Say goodbye quietly.

The wandering of the lost nation never ends,

I don't want to touch, like a broken prehistoric record.

The water plants are gradually barren and dry up to a beach,

I was exhausted in the trek.

The God I once believed in killed me contemptuously,

Piety alters numerous commonplace surnames.

Can not return to the address, torn up again and again,

I can't hold myself in tears.

Migrating pigeons divide strange cities,

The most familiar face is impregnated with years.

At the next corner, someone called my name,

It's a familiar scene.