My old man's hair is long, and my young man is wild. On his left hand, he leads a yellow horse, and on his right hand, he holds a green brocade hat and marten fur coat. Thousands of horses ride on the flat hill. I told him that Qingcheng had followed the prefect to shoot the tiger to see Sun Lang. Drunken with wine, my chest and gall are still open, what harm is there in my frosty hair? When will the cloud send Feng Tang?