The hairpin is thrown around, and I can't afford to snuggle up, so I cry and sing new words.

Lan Peizi, with a yellow comb, is diligent and crazy.

Bao Ji Yao hairpin. Strict makeup is clever, natural green is beautiful and red is deep.

It's a shame to sing secretly at the edge of the curtain.

The hair on the cloud temples is slanting, just to teach Lang to compare and see.

Tie the wrist with silk, hang the hairpin skillfully, and sleep with jade hidden in gauze.

from afar, I offer my sorrow and hate, and my hairpin is a bun.