$TAKE $WOD $FIGHT
Grapes' wine, crystal cup of night-bright glow—when you would drink, the pipa’s tune at once urges men to ride.
Drunk you lie on the sand of the battlefield; don’t laugh at the commander—since ancient times, in all these wars, how many have come back?
Grapes' wine, crystal cup of night-bright glow—when you would drink, the pipa’s tune at once urges men to ride.
Drunk you lie on the sand of the battlefield; don’t laugh at the commander—since ancient times, in all these wars, how many have come back?
