From this, I seem to feel that I am old before I am old. The sad-faced poet looked at the ruins of Chang 'an with tears in his eyes. A kind of worry and anger that is hard to get rid of comes to mind, and I can't help but sigh the desolate scene where mountains and rivers are still there and personnel are no longer there. Then, he reluctantly moved his blurred vision from far and near to the flowers and birds in front of him. Perhaps flowers and birds, such impersonal natural things, were really infected by the poet's continuous sadness, and could not help crying for lamenting that the times hated parting.