There are words (actually antiques, I prefer them)

Snuff was injured and fell to the ground one after another. When he came home, the mountains were vast and foggy. The shadows are in pairs, but it's a pity that the two places have been exhausted and they are buried alone.

Touch sandalwood lips, red dust purple. Youth disappears in the night, rain sends dusk, and I am dressed in blue. Looking at Qiu Guang's old age, who will hide my half-life glass?

Never look back, why not? Since there is no chance, there is no need to call names. Today, everything is like water. Tomorrow night, you will be a stranger.

There are countless fireworks in the long street. You look back with the lights, the pavilions are short, the world of mortals is rolling, and I sigh again. Who let the string break, the flowers fall on the shoulders and look at you in a trance.

Finally, the misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River enveloped the whole world. After the glory of China, it was just a scene, and the mountains and rivers were silent forever.

In the south of the Yangtze River in March, it is rainy and fragrant.

It's pleasant to get drunk in summer, but it's cool next to beautiful trees.

The frost wind is clearer and earlier, and the moth eyebrows lock the window.

I pity you for being lovesick, and I'm afraid you'll split the mandarin duck soon.