Flowers fade, flowers fly all over the sky, who pity the red incense? The spring trees are floating, and the falling flowers and catkins touch the embroidered curtain. The daughter in the boudoir cherishes the spring dusk and looks sad. She hoes flowers out of embroidered boudoir with both hands and endures falling flowers. Willow and elm are from wheatgrass, regardless of peach floating with Li Fei. Wind, sword and frost are strict. How long can bright and fresh research last? Once you go with the flow, it's hard to find out. Flowers are easy to see but hard to find, and those who bury them are worried. Leaning on the hoe alone, I shed tears in the dark, and the branches on it saw blood stains. The cuckoo is silent at dusk, and the lotus hoe answers the door. The blue light fell asleep against the wall, and the window was not warm. Blame it on the ass. It hurts the spirit twice. It's half pity and half trouble: pity suddenly becomes trouble, and even silence is deaf. Last night, I sent a sad song outside the court, knowing that it was a flower soul and a bird soul? The soul of a flower and a bird is always hard to stay, and the bird is ashamed of itself without words. May wings be born under threat and fly to the end of the sky with flowers. After all, where is Xiangshan? There is no trick, a cup of pure land protects the wind. It's better to be clean than trapped in a ditch. I will die and be buried, but when will I die? The man who buried the flowers smiled today, but who did he bury? Let's see the residual flowers of spring gradually falling, which is the time when beauty dies of old age. No sad songs for me, I don't know what happened!