The sound of a flying crane
On a frosty evening, I'll fly out of the lake.
The clear sound flows wildly, the high rhyme enters the empty.
Old material by cold plug, residual sound far wind.
The snow is like a net, avoiding the moon and suspecting the bow.
Although the weak feather can vibrate, the danxiao is not connected.
If you want to know more, listen to the smoke.
The Original Poetry: