At dusk, I want to go to the high-rise building alone, and the cross lovers on the stairs don't come, and the crescent moon is like a hook.
Banana hearts don't show lilac's frustration, but they are also sad about the spring breeze.
Song of Autumn Li Bai in Putang
White hair three thousands of feet, sorrow like a beard.
I don't know where to get autumn frost in the mirror.