Red Cliff

Sailing past Red Cliff, I remember General Zhou won his fame here when the three kingdoms were all at war. But the Yangtze washes away the heroic dust of the past as rain washed blood from the battlefield. In my hometown as well, no one seems to know my name and they laugh at me for my gray hair. Life’s a dream we forget when we wake up. In sacrifice, I’ll pour a little wine over the reflection of the moon on the river.