Back and forth, Aihong road ahead.
The lines are heavy and still affectionate.
Looking back, I saw the willow in front of the window.
Liu Bei's tall building has a bead curtain and a half hook.
I was a girl upstairs yesterday, and the curtain pulled down the parrot.
Today, I am an outsider, and my tears are stained with silk scarves.
Outside the wall and upstairs, there is no difference.
How close is the cloud to Wanzhong Mountain?
Sadly, we will never see each other again.
Don't wander in the air, who will mourn?
Wandering late, I decided to devote myself to the return.
Hand-cracked Hunan skirt, weeping to send manuscript anvil book.
Poor silk is a foot, and every word is red.
Every word is sour, and old feelings hold people's hearts.
If you collect water, you will be punished by flogging.
Otherwise, before you die, you will win and give up.
There is nothing to say when you are dead, and you are willing to bury your family.
Heartbroken, there will be a family.