He warms wine and pours a cup, speaking of a love that lasts.
He devises a cunning game, but no one dares to play.
His beauty could captivate all beneath heaven, but who is he grieving for?
A game of chess,
played entirely in the palm of his hand.
A promise becomes a prophecy.
For his sake, the world is overturned.
Falling plum blossoms cast faint shadows.
Blood dyes the scattered red petals.
For you, I would set my kingdom aside.
For you, I would forsake the world.
I can only sigh that this mortal realm is a dream.
The splendor of the dream fades away.
When I wake,
my old friend is gone,
leaving only fallen blossoms filling the courtyard.
I was shocked by the comment made nine years ago. I have to say that the author's writing in big letters really feels like an ancient style. I have been thinking about how to write about ancient style recently, so I quietly wrote it down in my notebook. Well... No one will notice.
It's a very touching article when I read the wedge =v=
Not bad, still quite old-fashioned~~