People and affairs are like fluttering leaves, blown by the wind and waves.
Who is who, the willow in my heart, the twilight and the morning, the prosperity and the decline are related.
Your eyebrows are like spring willows, like distant mountains. How much hatred is there on the forehead, can't the west wind blow it away?
People's hearts are full of sorrow, and even time cannot shake it, let alone the west wind.