Holding an oil-paper umbrella,
Wandering alone for a long time,
Long and lonely rain lane,
I hope to see
Like cloves.
A girl with a grudge.
She does.
Clove-like color,
Lilac-like fragrance,
Sad as cloves,
Sorrow in the rain, sorrow and hesitation;
She lingers in this lonely rain lane,
Hold an oil-paper umbrella
Like me,
Like me.
Walking silently,
Cold, sad, melancholy.
She approached quietly,
Throw it again
Sighing eyes,
She floated by.
Like a dream,
As sad and confused as a dream.
Like drifting in a dream
A lilac field,
I passed this girl by;
She walked away silently,
Far away,
A crumbling fence,
Walk through this rainy path.
In the lamentation of the rain,
Remove her color,
Spread her fragrance,
Dissipated,
Even hers.
Sighing eyes,
Lilac is melancholy.
Holding an oil-paper umbrella,
Wandering alone for a long time,
Long and lonely rain lane,
I hope to float over.
Like cloves.
A girl with a grudge.
A closed garden
May's Garden
Flowers and leaves are full,
There are no birds in the shade.
This path is covered with moss,
The lock of the fence door is rusty—
Master in the distant sun.
In the distant sun,
Are there beautiful gardens, too?
The stranger poked his head to the fence,
Thinking about the owner of outer space.
When the weather is clear
When the weather is clear,
It's time to take a walk on the path;
Muddy roads soaked by rain,
Must be cool and gentle;
Show new green grass,
Immediately washed away the dirt;
White chrysanthemum that is no longer timid,
Slowly raise their heads,
Try cold, try warm,
Then the petals break out of the shell;
Butterflies shake off water droplets.
Walking freely among the leaves,
The page of wisdom that decorated it.
Open and close when exposed to sunlight.
Take a walk on the path,
When the weather is fine;
Barefoot, hand in hand,
Tread across the stream in fresh mud.
Xinyang pushes away the haze,
The warm wind wrinkled the stream,
Look at the dark green moving in the mountains-the footsteps of the cloud-it is also wandering.
melancholy
I'm tired of looking at roses now,
Next time, she was covered with branches.
Spring flowers in my heart are no longer in full bloom,
Dark troubles came to my happy dream.
My lips are dry, my eyes are dry,
I breathe the flames, and I hear ghosts whisper.
Come on, cheat dreams, cheat fantasies,
There are flowers in the sky, and the world can be happy!
I languish in this delayed morning and evening,
I am a tired person, and I am waiting for a rest.
sunset
The sunset clouds scattered brocade in the evening sky.
In the dying days, gold flowed in the stream.
My slender shadow is floating on the ground.
Like a lonely ghost under a deep mountain tree.
The distant mountains are crying purple
Mourn the end of the day
Fallen leaves are dancing in the welcome.
At the end of the night, there was a breeze.
The ancient fragrance flowed from the barren grave.
Fascinate bats on old branches.
Their lingering whispers echoed in the dusk smoke.
Silent night quietly returns from the end of the day.
I'm still wandering alone
In this lonely heart, I am
Hidden sadness, hidden happiness.