Ten years of life and death are so vast that I cannot forget them without thinking about them. 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.
Under the moonlight, looking at the loquat tree in front of him, he murmured: There is a loquat tree in the courtyard. My wife planted it when she died. Now it is like a canopy.
Intention: The old friend is gone again, but he is still in the east of Yangliu Xiaolou.