Each of these little stories is a tragic song that sings in my heart.
Some women.
The flowers in the spring forest are so beautiful, and the birds in spring are so sad. The spring breeze is sentimental again, blowing my clothes into bloom.
Some women.
Climb the balcony in the morning and sleep in the orchid pond at night. I pick hibiscus by the moon and get lotus seeds every night.
Some women.
Looking up at the tung trees, the tung flowers are extremely pitiful. May there be no frost or snow in the sky, and may the Wuzi live for thousands of years.
Some women.
The deep ice is three feet thick, and the plain snow covers thousands of miles. My heart is like pines and cypresses, how can your love be the same?
The Sandie Yangguan is renovated, and the songs of the Four Seasons are played.
And who can ask, today, what evening?