A poem that laments that everything will eventually become empty.

Good song

Everyone knows that immortals are good, but only fame can't be forgotten. Where will the past and the present be? A pile of grass is gone in the wasteland.

everyone knows that immortals are good, but only gold and silver can't forget them. In the end, I only hate gathering, but my eyes are closed for a long time.

Everyone knows that immortals are good, but only a wife can't forget them. You said your kindness on your birthday, and you died with others.

the world knows that immortals are good, and only children and grandchildren can't forget them. There are many infatuated parents since ancient times, and who has seen filial piety for their children and grandchildren.

The humble room was empty, and the bed was full that year; The withered grass and withered poplar used to be a dance hall. Spider silk is covered with carved beams, and green yarn is pasted on the awning window again. Say what fat is thick, powder is fragrant, and how can the temples become frost again? Yesterday, the loess dragon head sent white bones, and tonight, the red light is lying at the bottom of the tent. A box full of gold, a box full of silver, and everyone slanders beggars. I am sighing that his life is not long, so I know that I am dead when I return. Well-trained, you can't be a strong beam in the future; Choose the cream beam, who hopes to live in Yanhuaxiang. Because the gauze cap is too small, the lock cangue is carried; Yesterday, I broke my coat cold, but now I think purple pythons are long. It's noisy for you to sing and I'll come on stage, but you think that other places are your hometown. It's ridiculous. It's all on bridal robes for other girls in the end.