A new song and a glass of wine, the weather was old last year. When will the sunset come back?
There is nothing to do, flowers bloom and fall, and it seems familiar that Yan returns. Wandering alone in the small garden, fragrant path.
It means listening to a song composed of new words and drinking a glass of wine. The weather and the old pavilion still exist at this time last year. But the sun is setting in front of me, and I don't know when I will come back.
Helpless, the spring flowers wither. The swallow I saw last year has now flown back to its nest. Wandering gloomily on the path full of fallen flowers in the small garden.