Ancient poems with other words

It was a long time ago that I met her, but since we separated, the time has become longer, the east wind is blowing, and a hundred flowers are blooming. Silkworms in spring will weave until they die, and candles will drain the wick every night.

I once again sent my bosom friend, and the thick grass represented my deep affection.

It's still messy when you cut it. It's sadness, don't have a taste in your heart.

The candle on the table lit the heart, and it also saw the parting; You see, it shed tears for us and flowed to the morning.