The wild tang flowers have fallen, and the Qingming Festival has passed in a hurry. The east wind deceives the guests' dreams, and the clouds screen the night away. Holding a wine cup on the curved bank, with hanging poplars tied to the horse, this place was once lightly seen. The building is empty, but Feiyan can talk about the old travel.
I heard that at the east end of Qimo Road, passers-by have seen a slender moon under the curtain. The spring river of old hatred flows continuously, and the new hatred clouds rise thousands of times. It is expected that in the Ming Dynasty, when we meet again in front of you, the flowers in the mirror will be difficult to break. You should also be surprised and ask: Who seems to be coming back when you don't see an old friend?
Intention: For ten years, I have dreamed of sealing the bones of the marquis, and the snow is clear in my hometown, waiting for you to sprout.