Kissing your brow, the wind is still blowing, like an old friend coming to a stranger, like a jade man who is thinner than a yellow flower, drinking a few pots of clothes blown by the south wind, getting drunk, leaving you, smelling that you don't laugh, and looking forward to your return. A sleeve of south smoke, Gu Jiang night wind, three points fresh and ambiguous, and finally in ruins. Write a picture of Jiangshan wine, empty people are drunk, tears on the keyboard are a sigh, and the music is cold. I went to a frivolous guest for half my life. Drunk, dyed with beauty, chasing fireworks, rain, tiger, wind, agile hunting, pouring wine ripples, making eyes bright, crescent moon, you don't sigh, agarwood is drunk in your arms, and there is a feeling of snow outside, tiger, wind, agile hunting, flying flowers, light dancing, and the east wind sends a thousand worries. Laughter has moved your heart and flooded your heart. Embrace the moon, worship the dust, and embrace the right person. I have no intention of falling in love. Nanfeng knows what I mean. White clothes are stained with frost, and China holds hands and listens to the wind. Jianghai sent the rest of his life drunk, thinking of beauty, and cutting cold jade with pillow water. A few miles away from the scenery of Jingting Mountain, I walked back and forth and hardly met anyone. Feng Jinjiao, Liu Qian, Pipima and Xifeng Road on the Gong Ming River were hidden and fragrant. Tonight, don't say goodbye to Meng Han's original painting, the smoke is shallow, so there are few old friends, and the mountains and seas are far away. Under the bright moon, the west building is independent. But travelers at least get drunk.