Therefore, the moon is silent and shines low on the old city. In the middle of the night in the city, the dripping water stopped.
The wind passed over the roof of the veranda with double eaves, and the rain hit the passing years. The bluestone street faces the evening, with red lotuses pillowing the blue lake over the years, and the clear waves rising to the shore with the tide. The fragrance of osmanthus once spread across the city and around the palace. In the past, the autumn sun reflected the high forest, and the auspicious snow still filled the city year after year, turning thousands of trees into a sea, filling the corners of the eyebrows and chilling the heart of love.
The sentiment should be the moon in the spring garden, the color of grass looks far away but there is no grass up close.
The beautiful forest stands in the ink mountain, how can it be scary to walk side by side with the sad wind and wind, the windy clouds have dispersed and the sun has returned, and the fragrant grass in the depths of the peach garden is withered. It's okay to say that the vicissitudes of life have happened. Suddenly I heard the sound of playing the zither disappearing and the strings were broken. I looked back and looked forward. The man was standing alone in the dangerous building. He whispered and asked, "The time will come. Can we take them back together at this time?"