"A Clump of Flowers: Once Met and Traveled Together"

We once met and traveled together. Wind and rain on the sandbank.

The high-rise purple pavilion west wind brocade, the scenery is far away, and the solitary step is late autumn.

The smoke locks the long clouds, the layers of fog, and the speechless words are soft.

.

Years of tossing and turning. When will the flowers fall?

Let the flowing water return to the east, in a trance, a trace of leisure.

A few bushes of branches, golden leaves, listening to the magpie chirping.

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