Once upon a time, you wandered into my dream and asked for a girl's recitation.

Once upon a time, you walked into my dream with your eyes full.

I still remember you playing the flute and blowing the moon on your clothes. You were like a fairy driving in Yue Xian.

From then on, I was wrapped in your long hair and buried for thousands of years, even tens of thousands of years of graceful feelings, and suddenly there were slight ripples, which made my solid wall suddenly fall down.

I picked a canoe and came from thousands of miles away. I'm the one who's looking for incense and dreams.

I traveled all over Qian Shan just to pick up your flying suit, and then I got drunk and held hands with you.

It turned out that all this was just a dream. There is no pen and ink in your palm to stop for me, and the picture I unfolded can't infiltrate your fragrance.

Send a foot of fish essence from afar, and never remember when you will return.

I boarded Orange Island, and in the cold moonlight, the thin case was cold and the cup shadow was shallow.

Is your shadow in the distance as meaningful and charming as the clear stream under the boat? Occasionally, an elegant turn will knock over the glass I hold in my hand and get wet with my acacia.

I am immersed in the moonlight and my blood, depicting your initial surprise over and over again.

Please forgive my weak brush. You are not a beautiful girl with a euphemistic voice in the greenhouse, nor a lonely and melancholy woman.

I can never give you fresh life on that plain white paper. Let me be carried away by your clothes and fragrance.

Without hands, you can hold up your elegant and dusty soul. Have you ever shed tears on your shallow face?

My long-cherished wish in my previous life was that in your affectionate dance steps, the agarwood fell to the moon and then vanished.

There is no chance to make people detached. You come with the wind and dance all over the world. I am in the world of piano, chess, calligraphy and painting that you inadvertently created, and my hands are no longer able to write this infinity.

You danced in my glass, wandered like a butterfly, and became Chen Hong. You are always half a foot away from me, and I can't reach your jade skin and the soft smile of cutting willow.

Where is the seventh chord urging elegance? You are not the rib of my regenerated China hair. On my bones, there is no graceful rhyme of you bouncing off flying flowers, wiping your eyes with roller blinds and singing songs with your flowing mountains and rivers.

I sat alone in the corner of a canoe under the dark night, and let the canoe carry a boat of starlight with me, but forgot that you were at the end of the world and I was at the cape.