Love is the heritage of the ancients.
You laugh with me,
Zhang Jiayi attacked Tribe.
In the rain, the stream broke through the dry land,
Clean its roads and defile its traces.
I listened to the teacher's behavior again,
Love this clear yin and nostalgia.
You were born like a piece of jade,
The epitaph of Zhang.
After the rain, the evening smoke sinks outside the forest.
Clean as a monk's towel and white cloth.
I haven't met Shang Shanjun,
Love horses and ride into the imperial city.
You fell into the forest,
Zhang embroidered the blade of the sword on Aiko.
Keywords raindrops, Wu Tong Mountain Pavilion, autumn,
Love yourself, love yourself.