I originally set my heart towards the bright moon, but the bright moon shines in the ditch
Going up to the small building in the desert and cold, the sound of dawn sounds like poverty and sorrow. The light smoke and flowing water paint a quiet screen. The flying flowers are like a dream, boundless The whispers are as soft as sorrow. Small silver hooks hang idlely on the treasure curtains.
No one can forgive me for my regrets
I want to express my thoughts to the Yao Qin, but I have few close friends. If the string is broken, who will listen?
I would like to express my gratitude to Han Xing, but I will recommend Xuanyuan with my blood.