I met her a long time ago, but it has been longer since we broke up.
The east wind is blowing, and a hundred flowers are blooming;
Silkworms in spring weave until they die,
Every night, the candle will cry dry the wick.
In the morning, she saw her hair cloud changing in the mirror.
However, she bravely faced the cold moonlight with her evening songs;
Not far from her charming mountain,
Oh, bluebirds, listen! -Give me what she said! .