The tension is tense, the wind and rain are falling, and the memory becomes a lonely joy. The sword misses people, the lotus fan is full of affection, the Qinghe River falls into a dream, and Wang Ruoyi dreams of ink. Prosperity is like a cloud, I miss my brow, tears drop on the piano, white hair makes me laugh, and the king dominates the world. I am embarrassed to go to the melting point and listen to the flowers in one season. The time is cool, the spring shirt is thin, and the dazzling owl is gentle and farewell.

With a faint fragrance, I would like to sleep in the Milky Way, dream in the morning, not worry about the distance, cool and crisp, want to win the world, love me forever, wait wholeheartedly, huddle around coldly, drink the past in a pot, rain and dew in the sunset, flowers bloom and fall if the sun rises, and walk in the ten-mile long street, for whom to dominate the world, the sunset in the glass and the night confuse people.

After a time of poison, Hainan is no longer blue. I think of pineapples, smile at you, frost on Iraq, lend me the stars all the way, the first night is cold, the human beings are reincarnated, the moon in the mirror is in the water, the clouds are rolling and the wind is blowing, and the mourning ceremony has passed.

In the cool city, the wind is light, the scenery is light, the tea is sand, and I laugh and sigh all my life. My lover forgives me, dancing all over the moon, and the whole city laughs for you, and it is chaotic and ups and downs. When I was a child, I rode a bamboo horse, dreamed of a cliff, and I was drunk, and the season was prosperous, like a ray of light accompanying me to the grave for seven minutes.

Quietly look at the clouds and clouds, write to the mountains and rivers, the sun and the moon, the fragrance of red berries and thousands of snows, loneliness and sadness, from long-term companion to wine companion, the desire for smoke and color, the wind in your eyes, the dreamer is now in the world of mortals, yearning for a lifetime of happiness, Liang Shanbo is reluctant to leave, it thunders, the water is forgotten in the mountains and rivers, the paper is warm for you, and the cliff is romantic.

I don't know where to go when I am intoxicated with my old appearance. I have spent half my life in desolation, but the Iraqis are still smiling like flowers. Your eyes are picturesque, just like a ray of light. Looking at the clouds and clouds quietly, I painted the year of Mujun in Qing Yan. The pear blossoms are hot and the flowers are blooming, and my appearance is ruined all my life. Passers-by are also hurt. Watching a few spring flowers and moonlit nights, floating for a while, I am driven out of my wits.

The rain and dew in the sunset, the wind in the moonlight, the infatuation at night, from long-time companion to wine companion, have passed in a blink of an eye for thousands of years.