Drifting as a guest in the southern continent, I have almost forgotten whether it is spring or autumn.
Fortunately, my rugged proud bones remain; never have I been ashamed of secret bribery under cover of night.
With an iron wrist I slash at dragon armour; with angry fists I grapple with tiger heads.
The lonely orphan overseas suffers deeply; I long to rely on a single hand to turn back the raging current.