I traveled to Jiangnan
The face that waits for the season is like the blooming and falling of a lotus flower
If the east wind does not come, the catkins of March will not fly
Your heart is like a small lonely city
The street just like bluestone faces the evening
There is no sound of heel, and the spring curtain of March is not lifted
The little window in your heart is tightly closed
The sound of my dada's hoofbeats is a beautiful mistake
I am not a returnee, I am a passerby...
The woman in Zheng Chouyu's poem did not wait for her return, but my return finally made me willingly go out of my mind. You filled all my blank spaces...