Ten years of life and death. If you don't think about it, you will never forget it.
Thousands of miles of lonely tomb, no place to speak of desolation.
Even if we meet each other, we should not know each other, our faces are covered with dust and our temples are like frost.
At night, you suddenly return to your hometown with a deep dream.
Xiaoxuan window, dressing up.
They looked at each other without words, only a thousand lines of tears.
It is expected that the broken part of the intestines will be cut off every year, on a bright moonlit night, the short pine trees will
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 have fallen and it's difficult to decorate them.
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.