Like a bird, she still flapped her wings and felt sorry for herself, leaving Beijing for more than ten years. Mochow has no confidant in the road ahead, and everyone in the world doesn't know you.
Jasper dressed as a tree, hanging down ten thousand green silk tapestries. I don't know who cut the thin leaves, but the spring breeze in February is like scissors.
In the green garden, sunflowers are exposed to the sun. Spring fills the earth with hope, and everything presents a scene of prosperity. I'm often afraid that autumn festivals will come, and the leaves of yellow flowers will wither. The river runs to the sea, and when will it return to the west? A lazy youth, a lousy age.