Maybe just by walking, my hair on the temples will turn gray and I will get older.
There are fifty strings of Jinse for no reason, each string and one column reminds me of my good years.
Zhuang Sheng was obsessed with butterflies in his dawn dream, and looked forward to the emperor's spring heart with cuckoos.
The moon in the sea sheds tears, and the warm sun in Lantian produces smoke.
Can this feeling be remembered? It was just that I was at a loss at that time.
——Li Shangyin