It looks like a flower, but it still doesn't look like a flower, and no one cherishes it. Leaving home on the road, thinking is ruthless and thoughtful. The lingering damage to the soft intestines makes the delicate eyes want to open but also close. The dream travels thousands of miles with the wind, looking for the man's whereabouts, and is called by the oriole again. I don't hate that these flowers have all flown away. I hate that the red flowers in the West Garden are hard to decorate. When dawn comes and the rain passes, where are the traces? A pool of broken apples. There are three parts of spring scenery, two parts of dust, and one part of running water. If you look closely, you can see that they are not Yanghua, but the tears of Li Ren.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++--Su Shi's "The Song of the Water Dragon"