Said by Li Qingzhao, a poetess in the Song Dynasty, "Drunk Flower Yin, Misty Clouds, Sorrow, Forever".
The fog is thick and the clouds are light, and it will always be sad. The brain sells golden beasts.
The festival is also a double ninth festival, and the jade pillow gauze kitchen is half cold at night.
Dongli drinks until dusk, and faint chrysanthemum fragrance overflows his sleeves.
Mo Tao doesn't forget me, the curtain rolls west wind, and people are thinner than yellow flowers.