Several times, I sat under the flowers and played the flute, and the red wall of Han Yin looked into the distance.

Like this star is not last night, for whom the wind and dew stand in the middle of the night.

The lingering thoughts are exhausted, and the heart is peeling bananas.

In March and May of 1935, that poor glass of wine not fade away.

Tonight is not last night. Last night's stars recorded a romantic story of playing a flute under a flower, but this night's stars only accompanied themselves, a sad person. The poet is sober, he knows that the past cannot be repeated, and it is precisely because of this sobriety that he has fallen into deeper despair. In the poem, all illusory comforts have disappeared, and only one lonely person still maintains a moon-gazing posture, that is, missing. Imagine the poet's independent heart, looking at the moon for a long time, Coody Leng wet his clothes and his heart at night. But the end of this kind of waiting can only be nothingness, this disillusionment of missing and the mentality of knowing that missing is disillusioned but still missing.