Jie Lianhuan, Lone Goose, Zhang Yan, Chujiang Kongwan. Thousands of miles away from the crowd, suddenly dispersed. Looking at the shadow, I went down to the cold pond. The sand was pure and the grass was dry. The horizon was far away. I can't write it as a book, I can only send it to you and miss me a little bit. The material is wrongly followed, and the remaining felt is covered with snow, which is the old people's eyes. Who can pity the sorrowful traveler? It's quiet at night in Changmen, and the brocade zither is played in resentment. Thinking of my partner, I still stay in the reed blossoms. I also thought of spring before I left and Cheng Yingzhuan. Mu Yu calls to each other, fearing that he will suddenly meet again in Yuguan. Without being ashamed of him, the two swallows returned and the painted curtain was half rolled up.