The whitewashed walls are low, plum blossoms shine in the eyes, and it still has the old flavor. The dew marks are lightly decorated, the lead is condensed and washed, and the beauty is infinite. Last year, when I won the prize, I was alone, and I was happy with the ice plate. What's more pity is that there are tall trees in the snow and fragrant bonfires without blankets.
This year I am most in a hurry for flowers. I seem to hate each other when I meet them, and I feel sad and haggard. I chanted and watched for a long time, spinning on the moss and watching the flying falls. When we meet each other, Cuiwan recommends wine. The person is still there, in the misty waves of the empty river. But a dream, a branch of beauty, shines slantingly on the water at dusk.