[Yuan] In Ma Zhiyuan, withered vines and old trees are humming, while small bridges and flowing water are flowing. The ancient road and the west wind are thin. When the sun sets, heartbroken people are at the end of the world.
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Crows returning to their nests at dusk perched on the branches of old vines, and the gurgling water under the bridge reflected several families with smoke curling up. On the desolate ancient road, facing the bleak autumn wind, a wanderer riding a thin horse slowly moved forward. The sun has set, and the wandering wanderer is still in the distance.