The tang color is misty and hides new buds, the spring rain is unable to soak the pear blossoms, a gust of wind, a bit of running water, a bit of dust, it is difficult to detect the laughter of idle people;
Day after day, I dream about the shy moon, and worry about whose house I am going to after falling peach. I pick up the screen window, only the candle shadow, only the tea, sleepless and crazy asking myself,
Wherever the flowers have fallen and their fragrance has faded away, it's late spring again...