If life were only as beautiful as our first meeting, why should the autumn wind grieve the painted fan?
In a moment, an old love's heart can change, yet people say an old love's heart is fickle.
At Mount Li, the vows were spoken on a quiet night; in the end, tears fell like rain, and the bells rang without complaint.
How could he compare to that fickle man in brocade, who once vowed to fly wing to wing, branch to branch?
"Song of the Magnolia: Imitating an Ancient Poem of Decisive Separation"
