All winter, the leaves of these French phoenix trees
On the branches, the yellow veins
Pick up a piece of land
The wind shakes the mountains and rivers,
The mountain stream where I stop every night, woo
Cross Heishan Road, your village entrance.
Bright lights
A strand of hair is gentle and bright as fire.
Like a wisp of leaves blown by the wind, the oath is green.
Like summer fruits, among birds.
Waiting for autumn
Birds fly overhead every night.
Can't bring news of the mountain.
The sunshine is getting brighter and brighter, and the streets are beautifully decorated.
They are in an ancient posture.
Stick to the next winter