After the dream, the pavilion is locked up high, and the curtain is lowered when the wine wakes up. Last spring's sorrow has come again. The falling flowers leave a person standing alone, with drizzling rain and swallows flying in pairs.


I remember the first time I saw Xiaoping, with the word 'love' embroidered on the double-layered robe. The pipa strings speak of lovesickness. At that time, the bright moon was there, once shining on the colorful clouds as they returned.
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