- Ji Xian
The illusion is an unforgettable one
Mistress of the long day,
One day is not seen, such as every three autumns.
At dusk,
Here she comes.
I saw her hit
Mist-colored light shirts,
And that pair of rich red lips,
It was fascinating.
She sat down quietly,
Beside me,
Stroke my long hair,
With her amorous hands.
I listened to her,
And she understands my gaze.
She used to sow a seed,
In my desolate heart,
And let the flowers bloom on the tip of the pen,
The fruit is red on paper.
If there are vulgar footsteps that intrude into my quiet study,
She ran away quickly.