On the night of Yantu, there is a cool breeze and the moon, and we are greedy for a sleeve of time in the world.
The fleeting years are worthy of the passing of time, Xiaoxiang rain on the first floor, you leave me, my wife will not miss you
The sword leaves no trace, the rain wears through the flowers and the flowers are cooled. A thoughtful person writes with his heart and tears the paper.