After the farewell, the two places hung together. Although it is March and April, who knows five or six years. The lyre has no intention to play, the eight lines have no transmission, the nine-ring chain has never been interrupted, and the Shili Pavilion wants to wear it. I can't understand it, I can't understand it, so I have no choice but to blame Lang. There are thousands of words to say, and you are bored. On the ninth day, you can see the lonely geese, and the full moon in August is not round. In July and a half, incense is burned to ask the sky, and it is cold in the dog days of June. Pomegranate is like water in May, but it is watered by cold rain. April loquat is not yellow, and I want to be confused in the mirror. In a hurry, the peach blossoms floated with the water in March, and the kite string was broken in February. Hey, Lang Lang, I wish you to be a woman's man in your next life.
Wangjiangge
When the furnace is brilliant and beautiful, don't remember that the piano is boundless.
I'm sorry I don't have a home.