Ten years of life and death are boundless, without thinking or forgetting, thousands of miles away in a solitary grave, with no place to express desolation.
I went to the place where the green poplar trees once folded, and without saying a word, I lowered my whip and walked all over the Qingqiu Road. The sky is full of decaying grass and there is no emotion, the sound of wild geese is far away heading towards Xiaoguan
It is not easy to cut off the fate, but the swallows are still there, softly stepping on the curtain hooks. After singing, the sorrow of the autumn grave has not stopped, and the spring bush recognizes the two-dwelling butterfly.
I am also afraid that both of them will be ill-fated, and if they meet again, they will live in the wind. The tears are gone and the paper is ashes.
Hide the silver screen and hang green sleeves. Where the flute is played, the tenderness of the pulse is slightly teased. The moon is bright and red cardamom is broken, the moon is like that time, and the people are like that time?
The change of sentimentality is the tiredness of passion, and the soft and tender intestines are broken.
I remember that in the season of falling flowers, I once picked up greenery and suddenly listened to the flute. Today, the burn marks are all gone, and the frost shadows are red and withered. The autumn water reflects the sky, the cold smoke is like weaving, soap sculptures are flying everywhere, the sky is miserable and the clouds are high.
The wind and rain are blowing for a few days, and it is more painful to stay away from others and know how to grow up. I sleep on my pillow for several autumns, and the toad sings his string early.
The cold night was frightening, and the tears and lanterns fell. Everywhere is sad, the light dust is in Yuqin.
Look at the pink fragrance and then say goodbye, leaving only the moon at that time. The moon is also different at that time, and the hair on the temples is shining miserably.
The duckweeds of half a lifetime are lost in the water, and the famous flowers are buried in a night of cold rain. The soul is like a willow cotton blowing to pieces, wandering around the world.
The jade leak is far away, and the cold flowers in the dream are separated by the jade flute.
The candles are shaking, and the cold quilt is just about to wake up. Don't sleep alone without thinking.
The vast blue sky is full of love between heaven and earth. It is difficult for people to get through, but they are willing to be steady and endure the storm.
Old travel traces, Zhao Tilu, everywhere, full of worries. I want to take a leisurely stroll on Furong Lake. The red clothes are in disarray, lying down looking at the peach leaves to send to the orchid boat.
The noon wind blows away the dream of Jiangnan, and the dream is full of water.