Hairpin head phoenix
After a thousand years, it's hard to remember.
I can't see where I can go at the end of the world.
My purple shirt is thin and I can hide in the rain.
The tenderness is gone, and the traces of tears belong to me.
Wrong, wrong, wrong!
＊＊＊＊
Tour to the West Lake, bamboo forest and willow trees,
Gentle caressing the guqin player.
Blood sacrifice to flowers, Xie Shige.
The oaths still remain, but the violent waves have also subsided.
Mo, mo, mo!
We are like floating clouds in the sky, drifting away to our destined destination, as determined as chess pieces, but with the same ending, beyond words. The prosperous flying catkins of the world only bring displacement, but leave indelible marks. ． ． ． ． ．