The leaves of flies are frosted, the buds of flies are frozen, and the fragrance wafts in the wind from afar. It is cold on the ridge, cold in the middle of the moon, thin in the north and small in the south. Jade slaves have feelings, stand first, and the wall is cloudy and spring is early. The first palace is yellow and thin, and Shouyang is slender. Tears are deep in silver candles. How much you drink, how much you have on your mind. Remember that the short pavilion belongs to the horse, and the evening is noisy. Cardamom and hairpins hate the wind. But disappointed, the end of the world is old. It is hard to believe Wu Yunyan in the distance.
Qiao Jinmen Zhao Chongjian
The spring leaks. The fragrance is as heavy as Mei Xue. The jade pot is cold and the ice is dark. Yunu is even worse. More like it, I'm still ashamed. The season of envy and pity. I'm still sober. The wind curtain makes the moon.
It rains in the mountains and it rains in the clouds. Mountains and clouds look at each other with tears, but what can we do for the same world? You have feelings, so do slaves. Shan Yu wants to melt the wind, and it has cleared up.
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