Poetry describing the withering of petals:
1. Falling into mud and grinding into dust, only the fragrance remains the same.
2. When the flowers fade and the flowers fly all over the sky, who will feel pity for them when the red color disappears and the fragrance disappears.
3. The flowers are falling, the water is red, there are thousands of sorrows, and I have no words to complain about the east wind.
4. The grass is delicious and the fallen flowers are colorful.
5. Falling red is not a heartless thing, it turns into spring mud to protect flowers.
6. The mountain in the temple is named after flowers. There are many flowers but no grass. Cultivation and pruning require diligence, as flowers tend to wither and grass grows easily.
7. Beside the broken bridge outside the post, it is lonely and ownerless. It is already dusk and I am sad alone, and it is even more windy and rainy. There is no intention of struggling for spring, and once everyone is jealous. It fell into mud and was crushed into dust, but only the fragrance remained the same.