Candles and turbid wine, the remaining light of the evening sun fades away
The green mulberry trees on the road are green and cold, and the dew is slightly bright.
The pistils are fragrant, the orioles are singing and the peonies are blooming
Behind the folding fan, there are clusters of flowers and shining jade beads
How can I get a pear blossom? All the remains are gone, but the fragrance lingers
Full of sorrow, I complained about playing the pipa
The place was long, Qiangqiang shed tears
The koi carp on the bow of the boat is missing, turned into blue tiles
Empty, riding on a crane feels like home
Hand in hand it's hard to hold the old head together, speechless and choked
Who is cutting flowers and candles together to talk about the cold weather?
The sound of the piano and the kong is faint, and the sound of the flute is faint.
Plum blossoms boiled in cold wine are no match for painting a fan and the sad wind alone is desolate
The phoenix rests on the phoenix tree, its nest is full of dust
I can't hear the fragrant sound, I can't see the frost and cold, and I can't see the confusion between life and death.
There is no space or color, and I can't see the sorrow and sorrow of the world.
It's better to drink wine and talk about your eyebrows, this life is not always the same