The fragrance of red lotus root lingers in the jade quilt in autumn. I undress my clothes lightly and get on the lotus boat alone.
Who in the clouds sent a brocade book? When the wild goose returned, the moon was full on the west tower.
Flowers drift by themselves and water flows by themselves, a kind of lovesickness and two places of idle sorrow.
There is no way to eliminate this feeling, so I just frown, but it is in my heart.