The Clouds Are Blooming at Dawn

The courtyard is full of fragrance and the clouds are blooming at dawn Qin Guan The clouds are blooming at dawn, spring is at your will, and the showers are over and the weather is clear again. The beautiful pavilions in ancient Taiwan are full of flying swallows and red maidens. The elm money fell from the dance trap, and outside the swing, the bridge was level with green water. In the east wind, the red gate reflects the willows, and the little Qin Zheng presses low. Passionate, a place of pleasure, covered with pearls and green cover, jade bridle with red tassels. Gradually the wine becomes empty and the golden canopy becomes empty, and the flowers become trapped in the air. The old hatred on the cardamom tip, the dream of ten years, can only be frightened. It has been a long time, the smoke is sparse and the sun is light, and I am lonely in Wucheng. . . . . . . She coughed violently, and her hair swayed constantly. "Father, you are so biased. You are like the clouds blooming at dawn, but I am like the sun. When it is bright and dark, I am doomed to live a miserable life. But you are doomed to live a life of smiles and pride." The moonlight was mottled on her beautiful face, quiet and elegant. I smiled faintly, turned around, and looked at the stars in the sky. A star falls. I looked back at her, and the blood was coagulated on the ground. She was lying on the bed gracefully and luxuriously, and the blood on her lips was as bright as a flower. . . . .