The first snow reaches the western region,
In the Central Plains, the green and yellow still hang on the branches,
Only then do I know an old friend is late;
It has been a long time since we parted,
Looking across the ends of the earth, it never feels old,
When falling flowers meet you;
The night curtain darkens the river,
As the stars shift and the traveler has changed,
The wind and dew stand in the middle of the night.