"Born like the beauty of summer flowers, dead like the quiet beauty of autumn leaves" Ye Jingmei's "Love Wind and Dust"

The autumn windows are still dawning, and the falling wood is more windy. The sun rises outside the cold mountains, and the river flows in the cebu.

There is no abandonment of the Holy Pilgrimage, and the old sickness has become a man. How many remnants of life, drifting like a canopy.

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