The water from Qingjiang River flows into Hanjiang River. The waves are rolling, and the boat is like a leaf.
The oars are swaying, and a gentleman is like a lotus. The beauty is graceful.
The water of Qingjiang River submerged into Hanjiang River. The drizzle is falling, and the falling flowers are like snow.
The clothes are fluttering, and the gentleman is like an orchid. The beauty is delicate and charming.
The water from the Qingjiang River flows into the Han River. The mist is misty and the moon is as cold as a cloud.
The smoke from the kitchen is curling up, the gentleman is like an immortal, and the beauty is so clever.
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That dream that was like a demon, why was she as proud as she was, yet she was willing to spend her whole life trying to find the dream without success for five years.
Have you ever passed by the turquoise stone steps of Jiangnan, and used a lightly fluttering paper umbrella to clear away the hesitation in your heart, but your sight was blocked and you lost your direction?
The long alleys paved with bluestones are filled with faint fireworks of the ancient city, and as you walk along the smoke and water road, you leave your vague memories in time. In the south of the Yangtze River, where you can dream even if you smell the wind, hundreds of flowers are blooming. People come and go, and the flowers are in full bloom.
When the heavy rain comes, the pear blossoms fall, adding to the sadness of farewell. Pick up leftover flowers and bury them next to the tomb, where they will bloom at the end of winter and spring.