Li Qingzhao's "Sound Slow" is cold and clear, and it is sad and miserable. It's the hardest to stop breathing when it's warm and cold. Three glasses of light wine, how can you beat him? It's too late in the wind. Yan Guo is also the saddest thing, but he is an old acquaintance. Yellow flowers are piled all over the floor, but they are worn out. Who can pick them now? Looking out the window, how can a person be dark? Indus is raining in Mao Mao, dripping at dusk. This time, what a sad sentence? "A piece of plum", red lotus root fragrance, dead.
Who sent the brocade book? The word goose returns, and the moon is full of the west building. Flowers bloom and fall, and flowing water gurgles. One kind of lovesickness, two places of leisure. There is no way to eliminate this situation, only frown and mind.