Hu Jia's yellow leaves rise and autumn geese return.
The night is still early, and bloom is falling.
The golden lotus jade belt is low and flat.
A song, a glass of wine and a drunken picture.
Whispering deeply, I left the red account with forbearance
Holding hands silently, embarrassed, tearful and heartbroken.
The spring breeze will blow in a few days, and then the green Jiang Nanan.
A sail is far away.
Don't drown your sorrows in wine.
Why do you care more about folding willow towels?
Say goodbye to you, and we'll meet again in a year.
The tears on the sansheng stone are still wet.
Sandalwood singing jade bowl reflects amber light.
When does the red candle shake and when does your shadow sleep?
The wind blows slowly, the clouds disappear and the silver hook is drunk.
Who walks on the moon in the moving desert?