The old worries make me feel embarrassed when I talk about it. I will always remember, swimming side by side, fragrantly woven stockings, the peach blossom bank, the thin fir trees shouldering the apricot flower tower. Several trips, several winds and rains, several stays.
Who would have expected that the spring breeze has stopped, the weather is easy to grow old, and hate is hard to repay! Bees don't understand their suffering, swallows don't understand people's sorrows. Old feelings can never be eliminated, when will they end?
Conception: