Liuli Lock

The mountains and clouds were locked in glass, and the cold rain left the pavilion. The cries of birds break through the clear autumn sky. The old scenery is the same now, and the old friends are nowhere to be found. It was a bright moon that night, so it was a deserted night. The fallen leaves of the sycamore trees reflect the remaining stars. The remaining sorrow should be gone, and I should wake up to dawn.