It was a long time ago that I met her, but since we separated, the time has become longer, the east wind is blowing, and a hundred flowers are blooming.
Silkworms in spring will weave until they die, and candles will dry when they turn to dust.
In the morning, she saw her hair cloud changing in the mirror, but she bravely faced the cold of the moonlight with her evening song.
There are not many roads to Pengshan. Oh, Bluebird, listen! -Give me what she said! .
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A wisp of faint phoenix-tailed yarn, fragrant and multiplied, meets Biwen at night.
Will your shy face stare at a moon-shaped fan, and will your voice drown out the rattle of my carriage? .
Once lonely, how far can a pomegranate flower whisper? .
I will tie my horse to a willow tree by the river, where will I stay in the southwest?