Breaking the spell and worrying about thoughts
The yellow flowers are blown down by the strong wind, and the sky is full of red. They are all broken into pieces. Threads of love are flying all over the sky, holding people in their arms, frightening their dreams, and regretting their love. Even if they leave, they shed tears.
A cup of sorrow has run out of tears, and my heart is broken early when I play the poem. At the end of the separation, the tears fall on the clothes and gauze, and my heart breaks. I don't change my mind about Hunan.