People get drunk easily when they first taste the green wine, so they fall asleep under a pillow and a small window.
The water in Luo River is deep, and the swallows fly south. The lamp is like a bean, but the person remains the same. There are shadows of people on the embankment and flowers in the courtyard.
Someone is holding a jar of new fermented rice wine with peach blossoms in their arms, leaning against the dead vines and old trees, and is very drunk.
With my drunken eyes, I felt like I was back to that day many years ago. The apricot blossoms are in bud, and there is a light fragrance in the air. He came on horseback in the morning dew, wearing bright clothes and angry horses, and he was in high spirits.
She lowered her head and took a sip of wine. It was not strong, but light in taste.
All the things in the past, regarding equanimity and perfection, are lingering things in the secular world.
The flowing light easily throws people away, turning cherries red and bananas green. The torrent of years rolls by, teaching people to collect all their remaining thoughts. No matter how deep the pain is, it will eventually be healed by time, and there is no end to Shen Yu.
When I opened my eyes again, the setting sun was like blood. There is a singer singing slowly on the green wave river: The setting sun leans against the west tower alone, and the distant mountains are just opposite the curtain hook. The human face is unknown, but the green waves are still flowing eastward.