The tide is broken, the evening water is blue under the moon, the wind and smoke are rustling, and a solitary lamp is lit under the fish.
The hairpins on the hairpins on the hairpins are gray and white, and the sound of the flute does not reach Longtou Pass. Where can I return to my hometown?
She shed two or three tears, looking at the old waning moon of the Double Ninth Festival, and nostalgic for the drunken sounds in the north of the city.