A bridge with a broken head and crutches.
Residual flowers are dust, spring is easy to get old,
It was a distant dream.
Get drunk tonight,
I don't care which dynasty the Ming Dynasty (Zhao) was.
Scratching one's head is helpless, and the sadness is getting stronger.
Rain hates clouds and worries about tides.
How many years have passed, everything is still the same as when you left, and the rain outside the window hit the banana;
I'm waiting for you to come back by the bridge of broken souls with long hair and crutches, even if I don't come back at all.
The fallen flowers have been ground to dust. It turns out that it is not only people who are easy to get old, but also spring.
It can be close at hand or far away. Isn't it close when you dream?
I drink alone, you can drink if you want.
Who cares which dynasty he will be in tomorrow morning?
The wine woke me up, and I grabbed my hair helplessly, but this grief was even worse;
All this sadness and hatred are like rolling waves.
I hope you like it ~ ~ ~