I am young, and I am young.
The street is long and there are many fireworks. You look back with lights.
Short pavilion is short, the world of mortals is rolling, and I sigh again.
Who finally broke the string, the flower fell on the shoulder, trance blurred.
How many beauties have been worn out and how many pieces of acacia have been broken, leaving only blood-stained ink to cry in chaos.
The vast land is broken with a sword, and the prosperity is gone.
Leaning against the clouds hides loneliness, even if others laugh at me.
Let him know everything and smile for you.
Send a song to you, don't invite people to get together at the end of the song.
Who scattered the smoke, who scattered the vertical and horizontal ties.
Listen to the string and break three thousand infatuations. Falling flowers, forgetting, once the wind rippled. If the flower is pitiful, it will fall on whose fingertips.
There are trees on the mountain and branches on the tree. My heart likes you. You don't know that.
Whoever forgets each other first, dumping the country is the old country. I refuse to play. Shadows are amazing.
Once upon a time, there were tall buildings that sang at night and had dancing sleeves on them.
When all the flowers and waves are gone, I will be alone with you.
Spring goes and spring comes, beauty is old, flowers fall and people die.