A haggard poem

and the tear-drops drifting down her sad white face, were like a rain in spring on the blossom of the pear.

Mo Tao is not fascinating, and the curtain rolls in the west wind, and people are thinner than yellow flowers.

People will not regret it when their clothes become wider and wider, and they will be haggard because of Iraq.

I hope your heart is like mine, and you will certainly live up to my yearning.

You will know that I am lovesick, but I am lovesick, and I am lovesick.