Xiaoxiao, Xiaoxiao, don't lose, don't forget; Jiaojiao, Jiaojiao, where are you? The rain has dried up the lotuses, but the autumn clouds have not dispersed. Silver kites are flying in the sky, like leaves coming to find them. I shouted, shouted, Xiao Sujian, autumn is already half.
Xiaoxiao, Xiaoxiao, autumn is half over, and the setting sun is fading.
Am I a gust of wind or a dream?
Conception: