The willows in summer are gone, the river is long, and the unsolved thoughts of autumn make me burst into tears. In Dongmei Lane, the wine is getting colder, the buildings are full of spring colors, and the flowers are still blooming, going, going, going.
The heart is suppressed, but it is soaring, and the love falls into heaven and is buried with the rain. The sun has gone down, the moon is shining brightly, and the beautiful woman is gone alone. She has been wandering for several generations, mourning, mourning, mourning.