Just because I think, when I look back on you, I miss your dynasty and dusk.
Shiliting is full of frost, when will the hair be white?
There is no regret in this life, and there is fate in the afterlife.
Smile like a flower, how can it be lingering like water?
Feeling so deep that I just miss home and dance freely in Pengshan.
Now I recall the benefits of Jiangnan, when the wind was young, the spring clothes were floating and the manners were graceful. I rode my horse in Damascus and leaned against the bridge. The women on the ground were conquered by my heroism. The boudoir barrier twists and turns, setting off the deep, which is where I am intoxicated. Now if I can be like that again, I won't want to come back until I'm old.
How many beauties have been worn out and how many pieces of acacia have been broken, leaving only blood-stained ink to cry in chaos.
Listen to the string and break three thousand infatuations. Falling flowers, forgetting, once the wind rippled. If the flower is pitiful, it will fall on whose fingertips.
There are trees on the mountain and branches on the tree. My heart likes you. You don't know that.
Like this star is not last night, for whom the wind and dew stand in the middle of the night.
A flower and a world, a leaf and a pursuit. A song and a sigh, a person's life.
If life is just like the first time, being a Taoist is not the same.
I don't like dust, but I seem to be mistaken by the frontier. When flowers bloom, you always have to look at the oriental monarch. If you go, you have to go and live! If you get a mountain flower, Mo Wen will be a slave.
Evil! I want to know you and live a long life. Mountains have no edges, rivers are endless, winter thunder bursts, summer rain and snow, and heaven and earth are in harmony, so I dare to be with you.
I hope to be United as one, and never leave each other.
Only the night will be very long, which is a lifelong worry in your brow.
From then on, there is no good night, let him go down to the west wing in the bright moon.
Who reads the west wind alone, rustling yellow leaves and closing windows, nostalgic for the sunset.
It was unusual at that time to have a bad sleep when you were drunk, and to gamble on books and pour tea.