The full moon adds sorrow to the new ones, and the broken flowers eventually accompany the tears of the old ones.
Wrong present, bid farewell to the past, the rhombus flowers in the broken mirror reflect the withered plum blossoms outside the window.
Force others to laugh, and your wings will connect to the branches of the earth.
I have been withering for a hundred times. This spring is over. I hope you will look at the autumn moon and think about my old friend. My thoughts are enough.