Desolate talk in sleep - Su Shi's "Jiangchengzi"
Ten years of life and death are uncertain. If you don’t think about it, you will never forget it. Thousands of miles of lonely tomb, no place to speak of desolation. Even if we meet each other, we should not know each other, our faces are covered with dust and our temples are like frost.
When night comes, I suddenly return home with a deep dream. Xiaoxuan window, dressing up. They looked at each other without words, only a thousand lines of tears. It is expected that the broken part of the intestines will be cut off every year, on a bright moonlit night, there will be short pines.