If spring comes, the city is filled with fragrance, the banana trees are already green, and the old friends are gone.
Three cups and two cups have no worries, the wind and flowers are boundless, but the snow and moon are gone.
It's bright and clear at midnight in Luoyang. Who is leaning on a pillar to buy wine and get drunk?
The lanterns were fading at the fifth watch, and only the cinnabar was turning gently in front of the case.
Xia Sheng cries three times in sorrow, the swans leave, and the moon is already halfway up the mountain.
Longing for love but not staying together, looking back to see, there are many ghosts.
The young master smiled and spent a lot of money, waving the paper fan gently to disperse his sorrow.
Unexpectedly, his face under the moon was full of sorrow, weeping and wandering.
My hometown is deserted, the stars are chaotic, I miss the people who have gone, and I am stumbling on my own.
He fluttered his sleeves and returned like an immortal. The chessboard was in chaos, who could continue?
The wind tells of the desolation, the willows blow away, the clothes are getting wider, and the good times are like a dream.
The broken bridge and the remaining snow umbrella have brittle bones and are a hundred years old. They just want to see each other again.