It was a long time ago that I met her, but since we separated, the time has become longer, the east wind is blowing and a hundred flowers are blooming.

Silkworms in spring will weave until they die, and candles will drain the wick every night.

In the morning, she saw her hair cloud changing in the mirror, but she bravely faced the cold of the moonlight with her evening song.

There are not many roads to Pengshan. Oh, Bluebird, listen! -Give me what she said! .