Early Plum Fang Snow Willow
Purple ink
When the flowers woke up, snow was blowing. The blossoms are sparkling. The clouds pile up the green bun, and the gate of the chengcheng called spring early. The water skirt is thin under the knees, and the willow thread is good to wear the waist. Say that the clothes are chuchu, or self-shame grass.
Fold new branches and go to distress. Who knows. Spend with the king, and how much the candle is red. How can you ascend to the top without going through the cold to the bone. This life is partial and so on.
![The geese call the old willow oil flowers on the edge of the long causeway of the smoke of the sky, and the beauty of the plum fang pouring into the wilderness, the wind destroying the rain and the dew[fig]](data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAP///wAAACwAAAAAAQABAAACAkQBADs=)