The wind is blowing, the catkins are fluttering, the white duckweed and the red polygonum are rising and falling for several generations, the flowers are blooming and falling, and there are thousands of thoughts.
The delicate clouds play tricks, the flying stars convey hatred, the pipa strings are on the road and I miss each other, how many times do I share my dreams with you?
Dreams are hard to keep, poems are incomplete and cannot be continued, spring flowers and autumn leaves are still hurt when touched.
Silence and sorrow arise again, there are wolves everywhere, tender flower sacrifices, and flowers dancing all over the sky.
The dream of the soul is gone, it is a dream that should be awakened after a long time.
The cold sky is about to die, and this year is heartbroken again.