Ten years of life and death are so uncertain that they cannot be forgotten without thinking about them.

Thousands of miles away from the lonely tomb, there is no place to speak of desolation.

Even if we meet each other, we should not know each other, our faces are covered with dust and our temples are like frost.

When night comes, I suddenly return home with a deep dream. Xiaoxuan window, dressing up.

We looked at each other without words, only a thousand lines of tears.

It is expected that the place where the heart is broken every year is: on a bright moon night, short of Matsuoka.