There is so much quicksand that cannot be grasped. After a hundred years of vicissitudes, the prosperity remains the same. The woman on the roadside was playing her harp. She was blind and could not see the chaotic colors of Chang'an. She smiled peacefully and took in Zhu Gong's gauze, indifferently following the shadow of the lamp. The raindrops on the tile fence want to condense, and the splashing water scatters in all directions. In the end, the moon is clear and the clouds are short of things, making me sad. The morning wind blows coldly, the snow tinkles, and the screen windows and red candles are filled with sadness and self-pity. The clear lamp is stained with ink, and the dream has not yet condensed, and the faint light of the floating clouds reflects the solitary shadow. The sound of the piano is lingering, and the sandalwood is overflowing. I laugh and dance, drink light wine, and look at the sand between my eyebrows. Drunk, I recall the past years in my heart, but I am waiting for Ke Ren to return. If we meet each other for the first time in the rivers and lakes, we will spend the time leisurely while wearing light clothes.
Intention: I would rather be shocked while walking on the road without the sound of farewell, drinking in the bitterness of the cold shadow,