Silently recalling the lively and lonely capital city thousands of years ago, the rivers that had long been lost in time passed away, and in an instant they washed away the heavy smoke and dust and descended. What is reflected in the clear river water are some things that have long been forgotten or have never happened, and a figure passing by with a sword in hand and a calm smile.
The Bian water is cool and clear, and the willows on the riverside reflect shyly.
The wind blows and the shadows of the clouds chase the orioles, and the boat passes through the shade of flowers and picks up the green duckweeds.
The Bian River is secluded and quiet, and the sound of rain hitting the bluestones never stops.
The old shadow of hibiscus is gone, and the new branches of osmanthus are faintly fragrant.
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Intention: