The cicadas are chilling, it's late in the pavilion, and the showers are beginning to stop. There is no trace of drinking in the capital tent, and the orchid boat urges you to leave in the place of nostalgia. Holding hands and looking into tearful eyes, they were speechless and choked. The thought goes thousands of miles away, the mist sinks in the dusk, and the sky is vast...
Since ancient times, sentimental feelings have hurt parting, and even more embarrassing and neglected Qingqiu Festival. Where can I wake up from my drunkenness tonight? On the willow bank is the dawn wind and the waning moon. After so many years, it should be a good time and good scenery. Even if there are thousands of styles, who can I tell you...
——"Yulin Bell"