Dan Yu, jade pestle, golden knife leaves color, Wujiang solitary tree is dyed again. Some complain, some complain, autumn dusk. Scared of old dreams, my hair faded, I resented new enemies, and my lips were slightly parted. The most pitiful mirror is painted with new cream and embroidered with evening makeup.
Thousands of miles of forests are falling less and less, so what is the old west wind? February flowers, missed Cheshan Road. Re-recognize and take it, the running water is barren, and there is still fear. I will send a message. But bleak, autumn garden setting sun, cold branches stay drunk.