Use a machine to pick mulberry trees and try on spring clothes. The wind is clear and the sun is warm and languid. On the peach blossom branches, the oriole cries and refuses to let people go home.
With two machines, pedestrians immediately reacted with delay. Deep in my heart, I can't bear to pay lightly. I look back and smile, returning among the flowers, just for fear of being known by the flowers.
With three machines, Wu silkworms have become old and young. After the Dongfeng Banquet in Cheung Chau Garden, I was reminded by Qing Xiu that the palace maids and palace maids wanted to change into their dance clothes.
There are four machines, and there is a frown behind the hoarse voice. Weaving weaving lotus seeds back and forth, the coiled flowers are easy to twist, the worry is difficult to control, and the veins are as messy as silk.
Five machines are used to weave Shen Lang's poems with horizontal patterns. No one understands the central sentence, no words of sadness, no words of haggard, just longing for each other.
The six machines are all tricks. There were even two butterflies among the flowers. They stopped for a while and watched alone in the shadow of the window for a long time.
With seven machines, Yuanyang weaved and hesitated again. I'm just afraid that I'll be cut off and separated into two places. After a separation, there's no way to stay together again.
Eight machines, do you know which poem it is? It is woven into a piece of desolation. I read it line by line, feeling speechless and unable to bear to think more.
Nine machines, double flowers, double leaves and double branches. Since ancient times, there have been many farewells, and from beginning to end, the heart is tied through a thread.