One autumn rain and another cold, the remaining red is dancing again. A few rows of returning geese pass in front of the building, holding hands again and again in dreams.
The wind is rustling, and the hatred is lingering. I lean on the railing and watch again and again. There is no moon tonight, just like back then, and my heart is sour again.
One autumn rain and another cold, the west wind whirls again and again. The short fence has left the chrysanthemum with its old appearance, and the way back is winding and winding.
Today is like water, yesterday was like smoke, looking back is difficult and difficult. Why is melancholy lingering between the brows? It’s hard to get rid of it!
One autumn rain and another cold, the redness of the pavilion will come back again. In the sound of breaking the sound, I hold my sorrow in my sleep, and the door is bolted and bolted again.
The lights are not extinguished, the night is about to end, and worries linger.
Where is the leisure in this heart? Dress up again!