The world of mortals, you come and I'll go. There are passers-by coming and going.
Like floating clouds, floating over your eyebrows.
It's only three thousand miles apart, and it's also worth your infatuation. When you are lonely, clear your melancholy.
Draw a faint sadness on a blank ordinary note. When you are lonely, grind it into joy.
The withered petals are framed in the lost dreams, and the fallen flowers are buried, so that the dreams can be placed.
Looking at the bright moonlight outside the window, I am full of melancholy.
If the moon does this every night, there will be no moon.
If the moon is like this every night, there will be no joys and sorrows.
However, since ancient times, how much tenderness is empty and how many lovers are scattered.
Looking at the bright moonlight outside the window, my heart is lonely and becomes a flower.
Petals flying, tears blurred.
Once upon a time, love was freehand brushwork into a spring flower, beautiful and fragrant.
However, spring is not always there, and flowers wither easily.
Once upon a time, love was unforgettable, and the vows were eternal.
However, love is like blue-and-white porcelain, which breaks at the touch.
Therefore, it is better to break love into strokes, simple and pure.
Melt love in a cup of tea and a ray of sunshine in the morning. Clearing heart and warming lung.
Let spring shine and lock the coolness of last night's dream.
Acacia sealed by time can only be tasted in the afterlife.