The temple is in ruins and the bamboo looks dead, but the eunuch would rather stay. The roots of frost gradually follow the axe, and the wind and jade still strike autumn.

Bamboo, near the pond, looks like jade. The dew is quiet and the smoke is green.

The wind and spring hit the mourning jade across the room, and the bamboo and moon edges were covered with broken gold.

The jagged bamboos blow out the love song, and the love is insufficient. There is a building in the northwest that is far away. I recall the Tiao River, and the cold shadows are clear and clear. In autumn, the wild geese are flying south. The wild grass is green. You should go down to the Xitou sand to sleep.

The beautiful woman has learned the Pingyang song. The slender jade shoots stand across the lonely bamboo.

The broken jade will not turn white, and the burning of bamboo will not destroy the knot.