一公元一一九二年,南宋绍熙三年的一个夜晚,年老的诗人陆游咳嗽着从床上坐起来。窗外风雨如晦,阵阵狂风摇撼着矮小的房屋。诗人点燃烛火,他的目光投射到很久以前:想当年金戈铁马,自己也曾吞吐日月,无奈最终壮志难酬……此时此刻,失地未曾收复,而自己却垂垂老矣。 One year AD 1922, one night in the South Song Shaoxi three years, old poet Lu You cough from the bed to sit up. Dark rain outside the window, bursts of wind shook the little houses. Poet lit candlelight, his eyes cast a long time ago: the year when the golden iron horse, he also had to hug the sun and the moon, but unfortunately the ultimate hard-won ...... At this moment, lost ground never recovered, but they are old and old.