Xie Tunan: There are clouds and snow on the mountains. It has been ten years since the spring was buried. On the same day, the sunset in Zhaojiang has not been seen. The golden Wuxi has not illuminated the mountains. The bones are deep and torn, and the chest is hidden with frost and snow blades. I am afraid that my feelings will be true.
Shen Yang: In the past, direct remonstrances were rejected, but Huashan Mountain was deeply grateful. The night rain in the rivers and lakes was sparse and it was difficult to find the roots. The dead trees had no flowers. Skillful hands poured wine to warm them. Red clothes concealed blood stains. They were offered to the world with hollow hearts. The rustling new buds were unheard.
There are hundreds of questions hidden in the world, who can avoid being stained by dust? The desolate and desolate body of the ages, lift up and let out half of the light of the sky, hoping that the world will be prosperous.
Fortunately, I saw Bai Xuewei in a red dress, and I was infatuated with it. The sun is setting over the Shun River, quietly promising the roots, and the red candles are facing the fragrant bottles.
Determination: I will be without myself and will not be ashamed of all people