Text/Zhao Menger
In ruins,
My home is far from home and I have been in Shencheng for several years.
Seven years is not a long time for lovers, and kindness is like a river.
Suddenly there was a sunny rain, and the lights were dim from then on.
I can't bear to look back, and a little light tears hang on my cheeks.
Erzhen,
For two years, your heart has drifted far away. You sang songs and dreamed of an empty bed.
If you only care about beauty and spit, you can still remember old dreams.
By clearing your mind, you can offer fruit and worship Buddha at night.
I'd rather forget, but I can't forget.
Three wounds,
I also know that there are many storms in life, and there is no sadness from dusk.
Lang Xin's heart is cold and ruthless, breaking the Huangpu River.
It's hard to cry for my daughter when dreams change.
Leaning alone in the west wing, drinking at night, looking at the moon like frost.
Four wounds,
I want to write deep about acacia, but I don't want to be diligent and fickle.
I read four books on astronomy, and the Nightjar Dream Garden contains five yellow flowers.
Drinking wine alone in your spare time will hurt your health when you get old.
The sky was dark, but I saw myself walking alone.
Five wounds,
Poetry is good for writing good sentences, and the heart reflects the morning sun.
Accumulated water is called a jade friend, who worships Bodhisattva Town all his life.
Poets gather in a enchanted gardens, where talented people and beautiful women fall in love.
I drank several times when I saw the injury, but when I looked back, it was all injuries.
Six wounds,
There are some hesitations on the cliff of Wang Fu, and the sunset is setting in my hometown.
Drum horn strives for long-term ambition, and Guanshan Wan Li is proud.
Seven words are broken, and seven years of grievances are unforgettable.
After reading six drunken poems, I choked.
Seven wounds,
Alone in the quiet room of the background light, the autumn outside the window is crisp.
Make a splendid scene at sunrise and play acacia at night.
Tired birds return in early autumn, but Lang Xin does not return to his hometown.
Seven laws and seven questions about seven years of dreams, dreams are the last word of willow waves.
Postscript:
Can't bear to look back, why look back; Life is hard to accept.
I am sad to be in its place; Love is over and can't be redeemed.
Release the mood, a few glasses of thin wine; Seven words and seven songs, dreaming of the West Building.
I hope tomorrow, love will come again; When you meet true love, continue to write gentleness.