Soft silk floats in the spring pavilion, and the falling wool touches the embroidered curtain.
The daughter in the boudoir cherishes the spring dusk, full of sorrow and nowhere to complain.
Hoe out the embroidered curtain with your hands and endure falling flowers again and again.
The pods of willows and elms come from wheat straw, regardless of whether peaches float with Li Fei.
Peaches and plums can be delivered next year. Who do you know in the boudoir next year?
When the fragrant nest was first built in March, Liang Jianyan was so heartless!
Although the Ming dynasty can peck flowers and feathers, it is not easy for people to go to Liang's empty nest.
360 days a year, the wind and sword are threatening.
How long can it be glamorous? Once adrift, it's hard to find.
Flowers are easy to see but hard to find, and those who bury them suffocate in front of the steps.
I stole the flower hoe and shed tears, but I saw blood stains on the branches in the sky.
The cuckoo was silent at dusk, and the lotus hoe returned to cover the heavy door.
Blue light shines on the wall, and cold rain knocks on the door, which is not warm.
The strange farmer's ass is twice as depressed, half pity and half chagrin.
Flow spring suddenly to bother, and to silence.
Last night, a sad song was played outside the court. Do you know it is a flower soul and a bird soul?
The soul of a flower and a bird is always hard to stay, and the bird is ashamed of itself without words.
May slaves have wings on this day and fly to the end of the sky with flowers.
After all, where is Xiangshan?
Hide the wind without a trick.
It's better to be clean than trapped in a ditch.
I am going to die and be buried, but I don't know when Nong will die.
The man who buried the flowers is laughing today, but who did he know when he buried them?
Let's see the residual flowers of spring gradually falling, which is the time when beauty dies of old age.
No sad songs for me, I don't know what happened!