The rain hits the window, the dawn is full of wet clothes, people are haggard, and a pear tree is cold alone.
The autumn rain is full of leaves and leaves, no one asks, only the chrysanthemum of the Ming Dynasty is more fragrant.
Flowers are blooming, the weather is cool and the ground is warm, spring is still there, and the flowers are declining.
Wearing green clothes with incense, where to find fragrance in the Ming Dynasty, the autumn wind is incomprehensible and the heart is cold, and the yellow flowers are blown off and hurt all over the ground.
A new branch, the autumn wind in the middle of the night knows my intentions, blowing the fragrance full of Qiankun.
The cold worm weeps and breaks the intestines, the west window cuts candles and tears, the acacia is full of paper and there is no way to send, and the autumn wind sweeps the leaves yellow.
The branches and leaves are lush and golden like flowers, and the sound of pushing the window in the middle of the night tastes new tea.
The wind and moon are full of rivers, the shadow of the sycamore leaves and candles shakes red tears, and the cold cries in the middle of the night.
Knocking on the window at night, the sound of the stinging is intermittent and the yarn is cool, the leaves fall and the autumn wind rises, and the paper is full of acacia to send to the hometown.
The intermittent night is dark, the moon is remnant, the paper is full of acacia and there is nowhere to send it, and the autumn wind sweeps the leaves and tears dry.
Like snow, like frost, leaning alone on the west window, complaining heartily.
The dream of the west building is not true, the sycamore leaves send lovesickness from afar, and the cold cries in the middle of the night.
The south window listens to the rain, sings the autumn song poignantly, and the sycamore leaves fall and the yellow flowers are helpless.
The sound of candles and candles shines on red makeup overnight, and the autumn wind sweeps the leaves of acacia full of paper.
The leaves are yellowing, the gloom is full of flowers, the candle shadow shakes red tears, and cries and breaks the bowels.
The morning glow is reflected, the water splashes, and the night rain knocks on the window with a transparent curtain.
The west wind blows and rains into the window, weeping and breaking the intestines, the autumn is over, and the residual red is full of injuries.
In the middle of the night, the sound of the worm fell asleep, a window of bright moon through the veil cool, acacia full of paper autumn wind sweeping leaves.
Wet clothes, full sleeves, frightened birds, a cappella with the song of the stinger.
The wind and rain in the building are close to dusk, the leaves and flowers fly and can't bear to hear it, leaning on the window alone to think about the past, and the cold sound is broken.
The sound of stings in the depths of the green window came to my house, and the dew on the leaves was full of moonlight.
The moon is slanting to the west, counting the falling flowers, the paper is full of acacia and there is nowhere to send, and the autumn wind blows the leaves to whose house.
The leaves are floating with the wind, the pond is full of clear water, the Xiling is full of autumn snow, and the door is cold and thousands of miles away.
The night is not young, the sycamore leaves fall and the osmanthus flowers are fragrant, and the cold scorpus sings from the window to break the intestines.
The dream can't come true, the sound of the stinger is intermittent, and the three more leaves are revealed, full of farewell.
At the beginning of the rain, the dream of the West Building could not be realized, and the lonely Xuan window was intermittent until dawn.
The flowers are full of flowers, the drizzle lingers in the window, thinking about the past, and the tears are stained with towels.
Leaning alone on the west window, the leaves fall and the autumn wind rises, full of Los Angeles.
In the dream, I was vaguely full of tears, and it was difficult to see the old people when I woke up, my clothes were soaked and my heart was still painful, and the rain hit the banana and the night was deeper.
When the rain turns into the south of the Yangtze River, the soaked clothes do not feel cold, it is difficult to sleep and think about the hometown, and the dream soul goes around the township several times.
I can't bear to return, it's always contrary, and the old spring, and the swallow flies vaguely in my dream.
Dreaming of Jiangnan, I encountered difficulties again and again, and I didn't realize it, and the pear blossoms brought rain to Qingtan.
The spring breeze and rain moisten the south of the Yangtze River, the heart is unwilling, thousands of wisps, and I vaguely see the gentleman's face in my dreams.
The morning light is soaked and the banana sleeps at night, it is difficult to understand the lovesickness, and it will be Chanjuan in a vague dream.
It is difficult to leave the word goose back, the west wind blows the dream into the window, the leaves fall and the rain falls, and the green shirt is full of tears.
The dream is ethereal, the road to Shu is difficult, the wet clothes are unconscious, and the wind and rain are blowing for another year.
The rain beats the remnants of the flowers and goes with the water, the clothes are soaked and the tears are dry, the lovesickness is difficult to relieve the suffering, and the dream is vaguely looking forward to the full moon.
I don't feel cold, the spring breeze and rain are short, and it is difficult to be satisfied, and I rarely see a smile.
The spring breeze is difficult to understand, the flowers bloom, the old people come, the sound of the rain hitting the plantain is getting away, and the tears are soaked through the old pavilion.
The nightmare dream is haunting, I want to complain that I can't sleep, I don't realize that I am soaked in green shirts, and the rain is hitting for another year.
I don't know the cold, my clothes are soaked and my tears are not dry, it is difficult to sleep, and I return home in my dream.
The soaked green shirt and rain hit the general situation, returning to the sky, and Du Yusheng is often heard in dreams.
In my heart, I often recall the rain in my dreams, and my tears are full of tears.
The autumn wind blows the dream into the cold window, the night is sleepless and homesick, the dew is soaked and the clothes are cold, and the rain hits the banana tears.
The night is not young, the clothes are soaked and it is difficult to make a sentence, and it is vaguely the hometown in the dream.
It is difficult to keep the place, the soul has been broken when the dream has not woken up, and the people who have not slept in the rain have soaked the old Luo skirt.
It is difficult to meet again when you dream of a confidant, and you will be soaked in the rain and flowers.
Bananas sleepless at night, wet clothes, wisps of love, to the hometown.
Soaked and unrecognized, the rain hits the plantain at night, it is difficult to sleep and think about the hometown, and the dream soul will return to his hometown one day.
The sleepless moonlight is bright, so the lovesickness turns into Xiaoxiang rain, and the green shirt is soaked to the fifth watch.
Zheng Huixian Zheng Huixian Chinese art