The sky is full of cold snow, and the wind and rain are blowing down.
The old man stood in the smoke, letting the white flowers fly to his eyelashes, and the prosperity of the past was gone. The setting sun is infinite, leaving only blood songs.
Have you ever remembered? Acacia flowers fall and rouge are broken, and the spring river water flows eastward. Do you know? I write about my long-cherished wish under the lamp, and the bright moon is full of sorrow.
Luxurious buildings and tall buildings, day and night. How about the old days when the sword is gone? I just want to write about the Spring and Autumn Period in the afterlife. Who is talking about watching flowers with tears? The empty bottle's love for plum blossoms is not yet strong.
Can you see it? In the dream, I sent my heart to maple leaves, but it was a pity that my young head turned gray.
I asked each other from afar, "Would you like me?" When I returned to Fei Jian, my shoulders were leaning on the willow branches.