After Nagato's poems were finished, the palace was silent, and the orioles were crowing and fighting with the grass, and the swallows were playing on the strings of the zither.
In the old days, did the couple ever dream of returning home?
The silver blade is as low as water in the sky, afraid of hearing loss and defeating the leaf mourning cicada.
The remaining white hair on the temples, a sudden west wind blows through the new look.
The palace is deep, and there are stories buried under every brick. The walls are painted red, and a human heart hangs under every diamond-shaped window. There are no good or bad people, it's just that some people want to live, and some people want to live a better life.
Intention: High walls and deep courtyards are nothing but a place for beautiful and miserable people