The ancient boat travels and goes with the waves. When I was young, I was thousands of miles away from home. I wanted to ask where my future would be. The past was like smoke drifting in the wind.
There are few ambitions in life, and the road in the world is full of twists and turns. Don’t ask about the future and the past has become blurry.
The past is like a piece of brocade, traveling thousands of miles away like smoke, and there is rarely any grievance in the world.
The clouds disperse, the rain hits the future and the moon sleeps. There are few close friends in life, but there are true words between the lines.
The wild goose travels south, traveling thousands of miles away from home. There are many dangers ahead, so look back on the past with pride.
There are few close friends in Shanzang Ancient Temple, and there are few travelers on the river bridge. It is impossible to know that the future has become a thing of the past.
The future is as bright as smoke as I fall asleep, the years are ruthless and the young man loves me.
Reminiscent of the past, the future was not smooth, and when I was young, I left home to accompany me on my journey to thousands of mountains.
There are few people in the silence, and the road is rugged and full of horseshoes. Don’t ask about the future and the past has become a mystery.
I recall that the road was steep and bumpy, and that when I was young, I left home to accompany me on my journey to thousands of mountains.

The road is heavy and empty, and pedestrians are puzzled and lovesick.
There are only three months in the world, and there are more than a hundred years in the world. The future is bright and the scenery is good, but the past is like smoke and waves.
Tears fell one after another. The young man left home and said goodbye to his old friends. He could not forget that his future and past were all gone.
I have been away from home for forty years, my clothes are wet with tears, my future is uncertain and I still dream about it.
The journey ahead is thousands of miles long in search of a close friend, but the past is like smoke and cannot be found, and there are few memories that last a hundred years along the way.
Weeping in the air, knocking on the window in the night rain is in vain, I don’t realize it, and I sleep alone in the cold quilt, dreaming desolately.
The night rain knocks on the window and makes you dream cold, the dim lights sway and the shadows are wandering, the autumn wind does not dissociate people from the cold, blowing off the clothes and covering the ground with frost.
The yellow flowers were wet with cold dew in the autumn heart before, and the lamp was dim and the moon was dark, and the distant anvil was heard from the west window.
The lonely quilt adds to the loneliness, the skirt of the clothes is soaked and thin, and the person is haggard. He leans alone against the west window and looks at the waning moon.
The night is still young, the candles are cut and the words are desolate, the clothes are stained so hard that I can't sleep and feel heartbroken.

The breeze is blowing, the lanterns are dim at night, the moon is cold and people in the west building are sleepless, and the clothes are wet, revealing their heavy clothes.
My clothes are wet with tears and I can’t bear to hear them. It’s desolate and as cold as ice. I look at the bright moonlight through the window with a solitary lamp and a lonely shadow.
The autumn wind is cold, the fallen leaves and clothes are covered with frost, the lights are dim and people can’t sleep, and a bright moon shines through the west window.
The lights are red and the night sky is bright. I lean against the window and listen to the sound of rain. My clothes are soaked through my clothes and my dream is as cold as ice.
Leaning against the window and listening to the rain, my scarf is filled with red tears. The cold moon makes my clothes see through in the west building.
The night is still young, the sweet-scented osmanthus is fragrant, I sit alone in front of the lamp and shine on my window.
Sitting alone at night, meditating, knocking on the window and dreaming, the clothes soaked through my clothes and the cold moon shines on my lonely heart.
It's a damp night, the moon is cold and the stars are sparse, I think about the past in front of the lamp, and I shed tears when I cut the candle at the west window.
The wine and greenery are so beautiful. The moonlight is sparse when I open the window in the middle of the night. The clothes are wet with dew and the cold wind blows on the bed of books.
The clothes are covered with dust and the temples are stained with frost. The autumn wind is getting colder and the night is slightly cooler. The lamp is dim and the shadows are dim and the thin man is haggard. He sits alone in front of the window and watches the moonlight.

Late at night, I was leaning against the west window alone and looking at the moon. I couldn’t sleep in my clothes. Who knew the wind was cold and the dew was cold.
Autumn has come, the cold air penetrates my clothes, the moon is cold and the stars are few and far between. The night is deep. I sit alone in front of the lamp and think about the past. The candle is cut out of the west window and my eyes are filled with tears.
The night is slightly cold, leaning against the window of the building alone, thinking about my hometown. My clothes are wet with tears and cold through my thin quilt.
The east wind and drizzle wetted the window lattice all night, and the ice and snow melted away and the south of the Yangtze River became sunny.
The dim moon is like a lamp, the ice and snow are biting, my clothes are wet, I sit alone in front of the window and count the fallen flowers.
The ice disappears and rises day by day, like a drunken person walking, with peach red willows and green orioles singing accompanied by fallen flowers.
The green and yellow grass is as wet as a dream, and the scattered heroes are always sad. Like this scenery, the snow turns into water and the water flows forever.
No one is scanning, there are tears, and a piece of ice is as close as Yingzhou.
In a dream, the snow melts and the spring breeze returns, and the peach blossoms are wet with rain and the ground is red.
It's another spring, the willows are as green as a beautiful woman, the wind and rain make the clothes wet, and the fallen flowers are colorful and golden.

The rain hit banana and no one knew about it, and the autumn wind seemed to blow away the ice jade.
No one has picked up the fallen leaves on the ground, the banana beads are wet with tears, and the heart of ice seems to be later than last year.
Tenderness enters the dream, the jade soul intoxicates the Yaotai, and the delicate fragrance spreads all over the ground.
Pity Jade Rabbit , like duckweed, the pillow is wet with tears and the west wind sweeps away the fallen flowers.
The spring breeze and drizzle wet the green grass, and the fallen flowers all over the ground are chasing the passing waves, like water flowing through the years.
Sweeping away the fallen flowers, the dream of red sleeves is hard to come true. A wisp of the ice soul goes with the clouds, just like when we met under the moon.
Time flies by, and it is wasted in the ice and snow, and the wind and rain hit Yingfei with many emotions.
The snow melts and the ice disappears, the peach blossoms are like fire and willows are like smoke. During the Qingming Festival, the clothes are wet, and only the fallen flowers are floating all over the sky.
The spring rain wets the blue hair, the fallen flowers are all over the ground, the years pass with the wind, how long will it take for the ice to melt and the snow to melt?
The air is like a rainbow, the sky is proud of the ice and snow, the rain is not wet, and the fallen flowers are smiling in the blue sky.

The snow melts and the ice eliminates rottenness. China is like a spring tide, the gentle wind and drizzle wet the willows, and the fallen flowers are colorful all over the ground.
The drizzle drizzles slightly wet the painting boat, the ground is covered with fallen flowers and the water reaches the sky, and the east wind seems to blow ice to the pillow.
The scorching sun is blazing, the ice and snow are so cold that I can’t feel the coldness in my bones, and there are so many fallen flowers everywhere.
The night is not yet cold, the solitary lamp shines like a bean on sleepless people, I miss my love on my pillow, and the wind blows the fallen flowers to the window.
Tears are like beads, and no one is sweeping the ground. It is like the passing of time, and the ice and jade bones are good for who.
The early summer heat is like steam, the sound of frogs is heard, and the tinnitus is ringing in the ears. The moon shines through the screens and leaves, and the raindrops ring on the leaves.
html In October, the rain comes through the screen window into the cold pond, and the small building is lit with lights and frogs singing in the cool evening.
The rain is beating down on the leaves, the frost is freezing to the bone, and in the morning I open the window and the frog sings two or three times.
The peach blossoms are beginning to bloom, a pond of frogs and drums is urging the plowing, and the east wind blows through the sky and everything is growing.
It's the middle of the night, the eyes are illuminated, the rain is hitting the banana trees, and dreams are coming through the window lattice.

Through the willow curtain, in front of the closed window, the noodles were opened for the first time and the sound of laughter was sweet.
It's raining all day, the spring color shines through the window screen, the golden stamens are blooming in the small garden, and the jasper frogs are still heard by the pool.
The dream is as thick as wine, the occasional frog sound is as light as smoke, and the moon shines through the screen window and blows rain in front of the bed.
Last night the westerly wind blew through my thin shirt, the cold rain wet my clothes, and I heard the bad news for the first time with the sound of frogs and the waning moon.
The sound of frogs enters my home in the middle of the night, the rising moon shines on the horizon, and the wind and rain blow the fragrance through the blue gauze.
The night is still young, the frogs are singing ten miles away, the rice flowers are fragrant, the bright moon is cool and the breeze is clear, and the rain hitting the banana trees has a long lasting flavor.
I stayed up all night after the rain hit the banana trees, and the cold wind penetrated into my heart. I woke up from a dream in the middle of the night and heard the sound of frogs singing about the full moon.
The sound of frogs in the middle of the night shines on the window sill, and the wind and rain bring a refreshing fragrance to my heart.
In the early third month of March, I fell asleep listening to the fragrance of frogs and peach blossoms in the small courtyard, and the wind and rain hit me all the time.
Three sounds are like waterfalls, one room is like a Zen room, birds are chirping and flowers are falling in the world as the sun and the moon grow.

Spring birds are chirping, and wild flowers are often seen. The monkeys and cranes in the mountains should know each other, and they ask the idle monk how many lives he will live.
The ape crows and the wild goose cries without sorrow, the bell rings and the moon fills the building, and the mountain bird sings in the dream.
The autumn wind is cold, and the wild temple listens to the moonlight of the apes at night. Unable to stand up in shock, a few birds sing and a window light shines.
A hundred birds are chirping, the spring is sunny, the mountain flowers are blooming and startling, apes are singing, tigers are roaring, monks and nuns are beating chimes.
On the way to the mountains and rivers, birds call people to return, and ape calls monks to stop everything.
It sings freely, welcoming the suffering, and a bird's cry frightens the world.
It is as desolate as a monk walking, thousands of mountains and valleys are singing, and the sound of bells and birds chirping in the middle of the night calls people to listen.
Looking for traces of birds in the green mountains, the sound of returning to the clear water canyon is still there, the temple is hidden deep in the forest and the monks are gone.
The flowers are desolate, the fallen leaves are flying, the birds are silent, and the apes are roaring in the ancient temple in the mountains with clear Sanskrit sounds.
The road turns and monkeys and suspicious visitors arrive. In the deep forest, tigers and leopards are like monks idle. Birds are singing and flowers are falling. I don’t know where they are. I am afraid that they will fly away and come back.

stay and have a feast, apes, cranes, fishermen and woodcutter go back and forth together, white hair is frightened when they meet, birds sing and flowers fall into the water.
The waves in the canyon are majestic through the ages, the sounds of birds are sweet and the flowers are fragrant, the apes are climbing extremely high and have a broad mind, and the monks are high-spirited sitting on the lotus platform.
Apes and monkeys compete for the upper reaches, mountain monks laugh at me for being too romantic, and hundreds of birds in the forest startle thousands of households.
The stone path leads to a secluded place, and the ape's long chirping can be heard, and the twilight is thick with the ringing of a bell.
Thousands of miles away through the clouds, pines and waves crashing on the shore, tigers roaring, wind and thunder, a monk sitting on a lotus platform, the sun and moon shine brightly.
Suddenly the bright moon is full, the local birds are noisy, and I don’t count the years in the mountains.
The ape is singing around the tree. The autumn wind is strong. I meet the monks in the wild temple at night and the moon is bright. The returning bird does not know how to scare others.
Sitting on a futon, going back and forth, the sound of rain and the singing of birds filled the sky all night long.
Birds singing in autumn are tired of searching for poems, people are startled and fall into sleep, and apes and cranes don’t know that I am not talented.
Ghosts and gods are frightened, and the heaven and earth are clear with their chorus. The ape's arms are relaxed to capture the evil tiger, and the monk's eyebrows are tightly knitted to bind the black dragon.
