In the fragrance of rice and flowers, people talk about the harvest of a year, and frogs croak in their ears, as if in a bumper harvest year. -Xin Qiji's "Walking on the Yellow Sand Road in Xijiang Moonlight Night"
And the yellow leaves fall in the rain, just like the fate of the white-haired old man under the light. -SiKongShu "When my cousin Lu Lun came to spend the night"