The courtyard is a little deep, with willows piled in smoke and countless curtains. The jade carving saddle is at the place where you can see the Zhangtai Road.
The rain is blowing and the wind is blowing wildly at the end of March, the door is closed at dusk, and there is no way to stay in the spring. Tears asked the flowers without saying a word, and the red flowers flew across the swing.
It was dusk, dark clouds filled the sky, and a depressing atmosphere shrouded the sky and the earth.
The rain is falling, and the fallen flowers are colorful, but there is a kind of desolate beauty.
I raised my face full of tears,
looking at
The boy in the tree.