The peach blossom pecked by the bird in the dream returned to the branches.
A tree is graceful and a peach is fragrant and pink.
The moonlight in my dream is very white and bright, like the brocade I am embroidering.
I want to draw a wisp of breeze as my embroidery thread to embroider peach blossoms.
Every petal hides my thoughts of you,
Oh, count, how many petals can a peach blossom full of trees have?
My love, you know? Last night, seven green hairs were plucked as strings.
Do you hear a string of music flowing gently through your fingertips? It was sad and sad, and it all screwed up in the end.
My love, there is a soft Yun Ni in my dream. I secretly cut a paragraph. I want to be a wing of Shuang Meng and fly to your side quietly.
I will gently and softly lean on your half sofa and let you sleep with my only warmth.
There is no smoke in the dream, no distance, only gentle me and spoony you.
My love, if the morning glow wakes you up, I have left in my dream. Oh, don't worry.
The petals on your pillow are the traces of my visit, and the dew rolling in the grass in front of your steps is the tears I shed when I look back frequently.
Will my love miss me? In the moonlight, in the chord, in the Yun Ni, in a petal, in a drop of dew.