The flowers on the pavilion are flying all over the sky, and the red silk fragrance is gone. Who can pity it? The soft hairspring is tied to the floating spring pavilion, and the fallen catkins lightly touch the embroidered curtain.
The daughter in the boudoir cherishes the twilight of spring, full of sorrow and nowhere to complain; she hoe the flowers out of the embroidered curtain, and endures stepping on the fallen flowers to come and go.
Willow silk and elm pods are blooming all by themselves, regardless of peach blossoms and plum blossoms. If peaches and plums bloom again next year, who will be in my boudoir next year?
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Xiaobaiwen
If you have high requirements, throw it away~~~