Li Shangyin's "Untitled"
It's hard to say goodbye when we meet, the east wind is powerless and the flowers are withered.
Spring silkworms will not run out of silk until they die, and wax torches will not dry until they turn to ashes.
When you look into the mirror at dawn, you are worried about the clouds on your temples. When you sing at night, you should feel the cold moonlight.
There is not much way to get to Pengshan, and the blue bird is diligent in visiting.