Flowers fade, flowers fly all over the sky, who pity the red incense?
The spring pavilion floats softly, and the falling catkins touch the embroidered curtain.
The daughter in the boudoir cherishes the dusk of spring and has nowhere to release her melancholy.
Hand-hoe flowers make embroidered boudoir, and endure stepping on fallen flowers again and again.
The pods of willow and elm come from wheat straw, regardless of peach blossom floating and Li Fei.
Peaches and plums can be delivered next year. Who knows next year?
The fragrant nest has been built in March, and Liang Zhongyan is too heartless.
Although we can peck at flowers and hairs next year, no one can go to Liang's empty nest.
360 days a year, wind, sword and frost push each other.
When can it be beautiful and fresh? Once wandering, it is hard to find it.
Bloom is easy to see but hard to find, suffocating the flower burial people in front of the steps.
Leaning on the hoe alone, I shed tears in the dark, and the branches on it saw blood stains.
The cuckoo was silent at dusk, and the lotus hoe returned to cover the heavy door.
At the beginning of sleep, the blue light shines on the wall and the window is not warm.
Being a slave is twice as painful, half pity and half trouble.
The flowing spring suddenly goes to annoyance and silence.
I heard a sad song outside the court last night, and I knew it was a flower soul and a bird soul.
It is always difficult to keep the soul of a bird, and the bird is ashamed of having nothing to say.
May slaves have wings and fly to the end of the sky with flowers.
After all, where is Xiangshan?
If you don't collect beautiful bones, a pure land will shelter you from the wind.
It's better to be clean than trapped in a ditch.
I'm going to die and be buried. I don't know when Nong will die.
The man who buried the flowers smiled today, but he knew who he buried.
Let's see the residual flowers of spring gradually falling, which is the time when beauty dies of old age.
There are no sad songs for me. I don't know if the flowers have fallen and people have died.
The flower has withered and withered, and the wind makes it spin all over the sky. The bright red color has faded and the fragrance has disappeared. Who sympathizes with it? Soft spider silk seems to be broken and connected again, floating among the trees in spring. Catkin scattered all over the sky came with the wind, covered with embroidered curtains.
The girl in the boudoir is so sorry for last spring. Full of melancholy, sadness has nowhere to put. Holding an iron hoe to hoe the flowers, I lifted the curtain and walked into the garden. Flowers are everywhere in the garden. How can I stand walking around on them? Flirty catkins, shallow money, only know to show off their own wheatgrass. Whether the peach blossoms fall or the plum blossoms fly.
When the earth returns next year, peach trees and plum trees will sprout again. But next year's boudoir, who can be left? In March of the Spring Festival, swallows pick flowers, and the fragrant bird's nest has just been built. Liang Jianyan, how many flowers are wasted, how heartless! When I go to bloom next year, I can still hold flowers and plants. How can we expect the master to be dead? The lair has fallen down, leaving only Liang Kong.
360 days a year, what a nice day! The cold wind is like a knife, and the frost is like a sword, mercilessly destroying flowers. How long can bright spring and gorgeous flowers last? Once blown away by the strong wind, there is nowhere to see. It's easy to see in bloom, but hard to find when the flowers fall. Standing in front of the steps is full of worries. I'm worried about the man who buried the flowers.
Holding a flower hoe in his hand, he wept silently. Tears spilled on the empty branches, which were covered with blood. The cuckoo cried her blood and tears silently, and the sad evening was coming. I went home with a flower hoe and closed the boudoir door tightly. The cold light shines on the wall, and people have just entered a dream. The faint spring rain hit the window lattice, and the bedding on the bed was still cold.
People want to know what makes me so sad today. Half of them cherish the beautiful spring scenery, and the other half resent the passing of spring. I am glad that spring has suddenly come, but I am depressed that it has left in a hurry. Spring came to the world quietly and left without saying a word.
I don't know where outside the hospital last night, there were waves of sad songs. I don't know if it's the soul of a flower or a bird. Whether it is the soul of flowers or the spirit of birds, it is equally difficult to retain. Ask the bird, the bird is silent, ask the flower, and the flower is shy.
I really hope I can give birth to a pair of wings now. Follow the flying flowers and fly to the end of that day. Even if you fly to the end of heaven and earth, where is the soul burial with fragrant flowers? It is better to use this splendid sachet to restrain your delicate bones. Then pile up a pile of clean soil and bury your peerless romance.
May your noble body live and die clean. Don't let it get a little dirty and be abandoned in that dirty river ditch. Flowers, you died today, and I'll bury you. Who knows when I, the poor man, suddenly died? I buried flowers today, and people laughed at my infatuation. Someone will bury me after I die.
If you don't believe me, please look at the withered spring scenery, and the flowers are gradually falling. It was the moment when the maiden died of old age. Once spring disappears, girls will be as white as silk. Flowers wither and people die, and flowers are strangers.
Appreciation of Burying Flowers
The negative and decadent emotions in Song of Burying Flowers are extremely strong and cannot be ignored. It has a bad influence on readers who lack analytical thinking ability. Although this kind of emotion is completely in line with Lin Daiyu's ideological character formed by her artistic environmental position, after all, because the author consciously expresses his life experience through the mouth of the person he loves, to some extent, it exposes the weakness of his thoughts.
In fact, Burying Flowers is not only a poetic prophecy of Daiyu, but also a poetic prophecy of Daguan Garden. Although their specific experiences in the future are different, there is no difference in "no luck in life", and they are all registered in the "unlucky department". With the decline of the Jia family, all the girls in the Grand View Garden have to get stuck in the dirt and ditches, and there is no good end.