People lean on the building, junying sleeves, pulling away from sorrow, self-gaze, half a glass of residual wine drunk, wind blowing sleeves, lonely cold as a hook. Yi Qiong Lou, huai red sleeves, nian chi willow, old hate and new sorrow, wet and familiar tenderness on the heart between the eyebrows, a few petals of moonlight light sleep silver hook. Acacia bitter, acacia thin, acacia thousand strands around the Red Chamber, streamers of water throwing bull fights, it is another year out, sad words choke no, nowhere to ask for reasons?
Winding paths, thin flowers, Ning Xin is full of sorrow for the moon, red crisp hands, climbing willows, long wind full of sleeves, affectionate and blamed, who relieves the worries? Looking back, missing the broken fiber candle thin shadow thin, with the column acacia red cardamom, who remembers the wind, a dream who stole? A little dust and a little sorrow, who sings like a cry? All kinds of tender feelings are left behind, only Yu Autumn Frost writes red beans. Lotus moon teasing, people are still the same, several degrees of flowers bloom to make people sad, green silk around the fingers soft, people are thinner than yellow flowers, empty weather, intestines cut off Chu mountain seclusion.
Lang Zhuanyu, the moon is soft, the cold night blows Xiao who solos, and who looks back at the willow in the song? Spring is as old as ever, the clouds are out of the clouds, you should pity the original purple door, you should remember the year of the clear eyes. The flowers are still loud, and the people are still leaning on the painting building, waiting for love without regret. Morning dew, spring shirt sleeves, willow color like smoke on whose brow? Whose heart is locked in by the spring water? Whose sleeves do the flowers fall like rain? A drop of ink melts into whose wind flow?
Whose sorrows did that oil-paper umbrella hold open, and who was he swimming with in the Su Causeway in March? Find the legendary Acacia Ferry. A pillow of spring and autumn, guest dust full of sleeves, for who to stay, willing to see the new scenery old. Thin jade leaks, step up the floor, tears dry and drift for a long time, thin shirt cool yellow flowers thin. Half a life of desolation like a willow, left in the silver string song of the plain hand. The moon is hazy and the willow head is still there, the lights are still there, the figure is thin, the wind is full of sleeves, the piano tone is lightly buttoned, and the song is inadvertently written.
Buckle the heart, turn silence into sorrow, and the light fragrance of the falling flowers will be dyed. People are drifting away, the end of the world is waiting, looking back several times, it is difficult to receive. A pool of blue waves wrinkled, one side of the ropa around the fingers soft, do not ask for who is ashamed, biased to say lonely tears boudoir, daughter's heart, are piled on the brow, people are emaciated. Hate He Hugh, hate He Hugh, a finger of love strings Jun remember? When will a piece of acacia be sent to the king's hand? Sigh time early thin, acacia is easy to thicken, wrinkles between eyebrows, soft intestines have broken tears are difficult to collect.
Wind and rain kneading, shadow retention, alone on the evening makeup building, mandarin duck buckle in the hand, wind and frost are late to leave the past scenery. Red silk wrapped ink bundle color shaft, heart word drop ink wet silk. Drunken pavilions stared blankly, and the memory of the king was sleepless and tearful. A pink cloud brocade sorrow, threading needles and leading skillful hand hooks. Remember the cobwebs, last autumn, the dream is difficult to seek, it is difficult to hold hands, this life is bound to the cocoon, who regrets the red face and white head? Remembering the first sight, Liu Gentle, who went to the Red Chamber to hold the hand? Who blows the silk bamboo listening to the red sleeves? Who embraces the soft incense?
Waiting by the column, splendid mouth, a song of acacia who plays? After parting, people stared, cold and lonely lamps poured wine, and a drunken red dust was difficult to penetrate. The years are long and weaving, how do you know the reason? Night rain remnants drip more leaky, sad times, embarrassed to look back, a thousand past events, the heart frowned. An old rhyme is sung endlessly, and there is nowhere to look at Chuanzhou. Flute sound, flute sound leisurely, a song of words, endless thoughts, endless heart, pick red beans, make willows, the most afraid of love rub, the old people know whether or not, a little bit of light sorrow, red makeup thin.
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