Author: Li Bai
My hair barely covers my forehead. I am picking flowers and paying by my door.
When you, my love, ride a bamboo horse, run in circles and throw your childhood.
We live together in an alley in Changgan, and we are both young and happy.
When I was fourteen, I became your wife, and I was too shy to laugh.
I bowed my head and went to the dark corner, unwilling to pay attention to your thousands of calls.
But at the age of fifteen, I raised my eyebrows and laughed, knowing that no dust can seal our love.
Even to death, I will wait for you in my post, and I will not lose heart in the silent watchtower.
When I was sixteen years old, you embarked on a long journey, crossing the Qingtang Canyon full of rocks and swirling water.
Then in the fifth month, I couldn't help it anymore. The ape shouted in the sky.
I looked at the place where you walked, your footprints in front of our door, each hidden under the green moss.
Hiding under the moss is too deep to sweep away, and the first autumn wind adds leaves.
Yellow butterflies in August, hovering in the grass of our West Garden in pairs.
Because of all this, my heart is broken, and I am worried that my bright cheeks will fade.
Oh, finally, when you come back through three Pa areas, send me a message home in advance! .
I'll pick you up, and I won't mind the distance, all the way to Sha Changfeng.
As soon as my hair is over my forehead, I'll play flower folding with you in front of the door.
You ride a bamboo horse, and we will walk around the well together and throw our childhood friends at each other.
We lived in a long office together, and neither of us had any suspicions since childhood.
When I married you at the age of fourteen, I was too ashamed to laugh.
He bowed his head in the dark by the wall and dared not look back after repeated calls.
I didn't stretch my brow until I was fifteen, and I wanted to be with you forever.
Always holding the belief that you will never die, how can you expect to step onto the platform of expecting your husband?
When you were sixteen, you left home and went to Qutangxia.
When the water rose in May, it could not be piled together, and the cries of apes on both sides of the strait reached the sky.
In front of the door are your wandering footprints when you left home, gradually covered with moss. Moss is too thick to clean, leaves fall and autumn comes early.
In August, Huang Die was flying, and both of them flew to the grassland of Xiyuan.
I am very sad to see this scene, so I am sad and my face is aging.
Whenever you want to get off the bus and go home, please bring me a letter from home in advance.
Welcome, don't be afraid of the long road, until you are dusty.