Dui Duxue House
Most of the people crying on the battlefield are the ghosts of the newly killed soldiers, only the old people who are sad to write poems.
At dusk, suddenly snowflakes are dancing in the wind.
Abandoning the ladle is green, and the fire in the furnace is red.
The news of the front-line battle and the news of his wife and sisters are unknown. Sadness sits in the air with his hands in the air.