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. Slow voice
Looking around, cold and clear, miserable and miserable. It's the hardest to stop breathing when it's warm and cold. Three glasses of light wine, how can you object to his being late? Guo Yan is very sad, but this is an old acquaintance. Yellow flowers were piled all over the floor, withered and damaged. Who can pick them now? Looking out the window, how can a person be dark? Indus is raining in Mao Mao, dripping at dusk. This time, what a sad sentence!