Flowers are idle, water is slow, and time is shortened by another year.
The years are like a fleeting time, and they are like smoke passing by your temples, making the world of mortals sigh.
Poetry and painting Jiangnan, mist and rain without shore, lightly describe your appearance.
The night is dark, and all my thoughts are between your brows.
Your single word can relieve my myriad worries.
With you, I will have no regrets in life and death. Holding my hand serves as a warning. Three lives are the limit.
It is said that the road in the world is difficult, so why is it difficult? I neglect my fame, pick chrysanthemums by the fence, and hide in Nanshan.