Brahma Flower Resentment

The brocade harp moves the red strings, and the sound is slow and melancholy. I once remembered that in the Jingu Garden, the king and his grandson had a tortoiseshell feast; sitting on the ground and sucking in the Changchuan River, the whale drank heartily He spreads his sleeves and sings wildly, claiming to be a wine-drinking immortal, growing lotuses every step of the way, and being drunk on the willow bank Last night I dreamed about a golden man holding a dew plate again The shengxiao is sung for ten miles, the moon is round, round, round, and I am smiling all over the city, lying in front of you. The mandarin ducks are lost in the clouds and water, they are lost in the clouds and water The lights dimmed unexpectedly, and the prosperity faded overnight, leaving Chang'an vaguely The flowers have fallen in the coldest night, and the swallows have returned to their faith. Zigui cries on the empty mountain, secretly passing through the passing years. Begonias are green and fat, red and skinny, pomegranates are withered, and the wind and rain mercilessly bury Chanjuan. The world is separated by the mortal world and the outer world The sandalwood is misty, the words of the Sanskrit scriptures are Zen, Zen, Zen, and my heart is not yet touched by the lotus root silk. Pray to reconnect with the next life and reconnect with the next life. Words: Murong Shi