The Wujiang River is cold, and lonely people sing sad sentences.
The ship is in the boat, the water is isolated, like flowers, and the sunset returns home.
It's desolate and desolate. I don't have feelings to bear my heart.
Chang 'an, who asked if traveling was tiring?
I am ashamed to see my face decline and borrow wine, so I fell.
Rely on new makeup, not into Luoyang flower spectrum.
Dancing in order to be empty, I will try my best to break through the clouds.
I remember that the south of the Yangtze River is overcast and blue, listening to the dark rain in the night window.
A wisp of fragrant red leaves age: Song Author: Wang Style:, the word jade pestle, color gold knife, re-dyed Wujiang solitary tree.
Some complain, some complain, autumn dusk.
Scared of old dreams, my hair faded, I resented new enemies, and my lips were slightly parted.
The most pitiful thing is that I am wearing a new cream, and I am embroidered with a mirror at night.
Thousands of miles of forests are falling less and less, so what is the old west wind?
February