At last did not ask Jun An, Still fall lovesickness ground. In one day is evening late, Fu Nianjun puts in this 's charge. 10 thousand hate leave rain, 100 flowers are gaunt, Who dare be affection deep, Unreal empty cloud ceases raining or snowing. Much dream, The truest without the trace, Still search however, It is mud of cloud of flowers and plants more. |
Orignal From: Without the mood of origin- - miscellaneous old
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