Looking back frequently, silently recalling the past, remembering the warmth, waking up from dreams.

Who is sighing, what can be played with this kind of smell?

Thinking about the past, I was obsessed with a song, the breeze and the moon, and a lot of lingering.

Painful parting, the wind and the angry moon, everything, into a wound and death.

Look at today, the siege has been built, the beautiful woman is floating, and she is looking for dreams in other places.

Led to the north, indifferent. Is it true?

Only thoughts, pay wishes.

"Yuan Pu Essays" Volume 2: Twenty Yuan Pu poems Reminiscing about the past are being typed in your hands, please wait a moment,

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