Picking flowers under the bodhi tree
The cold incense blows on my face and the smoke of willow and sandalwood blows
You want to hide your grudges
The sound of the flute gradually fades away and the beauty smiles
Mirror of dust and broken heart
The breeze blows and the cold moon fades
If you don't enter the world of mortals in this life,
Long-cherished wish to be a human again in the next life
Three generations, three generations of love
The second generation is called debt repayment
She paid off the debt she owed, so who will pay back the debt owed to her?