You once swore to the moon and became a couple with your son. Later, everything fell apart and I was left alone. The words of the rainy night in Bashan were desolate.
You said that time flies by, and the light shines in a moment. Later, the labor and swallows fly away, turn around, and the jackdaws rush about on their own several times.
You once laughed and talked about the Spring and Autumn Period, and spent a lot of time thinking about it. Later, when you left the tea to cool down, you asked who in the world would enjoy the flowers blooming on the road.
You said that you didn't envy the mandarin ducks for a while, but later you poured yourselves in front of the court, sighing about yesterday, and you mistakenly paid tribute to the fleeting years.