Since ancient times, sentimental parting, snubbing the clear autumn festival, is even worse.
Who knows where I am when I am awake tonight? Yang Liuan, the wind is going to stop.
It should be a good time to exist in name only. Who should I talk to about such strange customs?
Wash and dress, lean on Wangjianglou alone, and cross Qian Fan. The slanting light is full of water, and the heartbroken frequency is white (not at this frequency, I can't type correctly, I should add a grass flower head).
It is sad, especially the general taste in my heart.
You can't see you, leaving only hoofprint behind him.
I'm afraid the boat won't move. I'm worried.
I entrust my sad thoughts to the moon, hoping to accompany you to the west of Yelang.
But I looked at my hometown, and the twilight was getting thicker, and the mist of sadness was filled on the river waves.
When the sun sets, heartbroken people are at the end of the world.
A glass of turbid wine is Wan Li's home, but Ran Yan hasn't come home yet.
When * * * was cutting candles at the west window, it was raining late in the autumn pool.
Where is the home of Yunheng Qinling? The heavy snow hindered the horse's progress.
I advise you to drink one more glass of wine. It doesn't make sense to go out in the west.
One lovesickness, two leisure worries.
A gentleman is poor, who wants to meet today without paying for drinks?
I can finally send my messenger, the wild goose, back to Luoyang.
How much leisure do you have? A puff of smoke, plum yellow rain.
I can't eliminate this situation, but I frown, but I care.
Because they remembered Ling Du's dream, the geese returned home full of food.