A very sad poem can be summed up in such a painting: the lake surface that is as quiet as water, a stone falls, ripples are made, the stone sinks to the bottom of the lake, and the lake recovers like a mirror.
The verses are as follows:
White tea Qinghuan has nothing else to do,
I'm waiting for the wind and waiting for you.
Bitter wine folds willows are now separated,
No wind, no moon, no you.
The original plain days, because of you, every day has waiting, there is expectation, the days are vivid and interesting. I thought that this relationship between us would be like a willow branch, as soft, tough, and difficult to break. But in the end, we were separated, like drinking a glass of bitter wine, and from then on in my world, there would be no more wind and snow, and there would be no more you.
