The flowers fall by themselves, and the night crows when the evening fragrance comes.
The makeup building is deep, silently counting the rouge and tears in my heart thousands of miles away.
The meaning of plain flowers,
The green hills are wet all over,
The mountains are covered with snow.
Listen to the strings break, cut off those three thousand obsessions.
The falling flowers are obliterated, and the wind is obliterated.
If the flower is pity, it falls on whose fingertips.