Zhao Ding
The grass is colorful. Raindrop spots. Fly, or spring. Tianya Wan Li, three years at sea. Try to lean on a dangerous building, but hate it at a distance.
Look up and see the sun, but not Chang 'an. Staring, tears sad. The birds flew away and the leaves of the banyan tree were cold. At dusk, alone, still by the aperture.
The grassland is lush and endless. Rain drops on the carved beams and painted buildings, becoming traces. Flowers are dying and petals are flying. It's time for spring to pass. In the distance, the sky meets the water, and my eyes are full. I've been on a ship for a long time, and I'm getting lonely. Leaning against a tall building. Roll up the bead curtain, look far away, and send it away with hatred.
Looking up at the sun, I can't see Chang 'an. Frowning gently, tears swirling in her eyes, very bleak scenery. The birds in the mountains flew away, and the leaves of banyan trees gradually became cold because of the weather. At dusk, a person, leaning against the railing.