Streams can easily throw people away, turn cherries red and plantains green.
Get up and walk around the steps alone, people are silent, and the moon shines outside the curtain.
Who is singing that sad and sad old tune of the Conservatory of Music? Xiao Feng, wind, rain, short and thin candles in the house, a lonely night, in candlelight.
I don't know what a lingering heart is, and it's hard to let it go. After waking up, I'm drunk and bored. Is it Xie Qiao that I haven't been to in my dream?
When I was drunk, I watched the sword and dreamed of blowing the horn.
The willow floor dances low and the peach blossom fan sings at the bottom.
If you want to turn drunkenness into sorrow, singing can't hurt your heart.