HITA 

Composer: DATEKEN Songbei - つむぎた

Words: choose not

When the snow is coming, Another pot of wine, Will be lonely, long entrance.  

On a cold night, at the end of the mountain, red clouds rise from the mountain, The song by the fire It was written carelessly.

Before the white dew, the wheat is not ripe, It's early autumn, Before leaving, knock on the firewood leaf.  

The frost red on the ridge also soaked the eyes, That song, choked in the throat, Silence cannot bear to turn back.

 Qing is still a young man, picking up all kinds of roses. The wind is warm, and he has just become a new flower. He asked me how old he is when the four seasons in the mountain flow? When you first got married, you picked wild flowers alone. The dew was still thin, and the leaves were already green. When you asked the recruiter, where did you look for a withered and luxuriant land?

In the rainy season, Fry tea and try new leaves, Let time overlap the cup.  

Under the thatch eaves, the water flows like water, and you can't feel it when you touch your clothes, The ink was grinded, and the mango seed had just passed, The song is written to the lower half.

After the spring equinox, the flowers have not withered, It can be picked, But he bowed his head and asked if it was Yafeiye?  

The residual fragrance on the branches also covered the eyelashes, Who is following that song, The first verse just finished.

 Qing is still a young man, picking up all kinds of roses. The wind is warm, and he has just become a new flower. He asked me how old he is when the four seasons in the mountain flow? When you first got married, you picked wild flowers alone. The dew was still thin, and the leaves were already green. When you asked the recruiter, where did you look for a withered and luxuriant land? You are old. When you recall picking roses, the grass has not withered and is heading again. You ask people, will you come back when the wildfire is over? In the past, I went to the willows, but now I come here. It is snowing heavily. I ask my old friend, can you remember the singing of Gao when he was picking up the wild flowers?