Thousands of worries are all in my eyebrows, the wind brings fluttering fallen leaves, faint melancholy dances with helplessness, drifting down.
Dreams fall into the azure sea, dressed in white, graceful and charming, on the other shore flowers bloom, who knows how many.
And the fallen leaves are beautiful, just like their own charm, like butterflies, almost like immortals, desolate yet enchanting.
Peach blossoms dot the branches, fallen petals everywhere.
Another year passes, yet the feelings remain unchanged.
A beauty drunk, infatuated heart cannot be reasoned with, the flowers on the other shore wither, hair turns white, heart is sealed, flowers wither and bloom, never meeting.
It is naturally desolate
And the moonlight is like water, rippling with sorrow.
A thousand-year hate, ten thousand years of pain, a drop of a bitter tear, tasted for ten thousand years. If one plays the zither or flute, helplessly shallow, sorrow lightly.
But alas, one smile that can topple a city cannot bring back true love.
If it imprints deep in the bone and heart, it can never be forgotten for a lifetime.
Willing to bury flowers, also willing to bury the heart.
And if the heart is dead, the body gone, tears accompany sorrow, unable to forget through lifetimes.
A lifetime is ultimately short, while countless lifetimes is forever.
May parting sorrow,
Not last long.
Looking back, tears already fill the face, will there never be forever, will there never be possession again
If turned into a butterfly, willing to stay by your side, never leaving, never abandoning.
But tears have turned to frost, how can there still be hope.
Flowers fade, breaking the beauty, leaving only a hidden fragrance, in the darkness, gathering only to disperse, dispersing only to gather.
This feeling can be awaited to become a memory, day after day, without a return date.
A thousand-year destiny, a thousand-year tear, a thousand-year pain. Reincarnate for a thousand years, a dream of the Red Mansion. Who sinks in the mundane world; who slowly chills the tenderness they pass by; who stands in the wind, flute sound lingering, hair like snow dancing wildly, clothes like butterflies floating ready to fly. Then, night falls, dreaming back to the Red Mansion…
Gentle dance steps, dancing out a dazzling scene, colorful and splendid.
If love between two hearts is long-lasting, why worry about day and night, yet the heart is weary, unwilling to pursue anymore.
Light ink threads, weaving a thousand worries; may one find a kindred spirit, until old age.
Heaven is also heartless, cruel, both for you and for me, is fine.
A smile like flowers, flowers as they are.
Only wish to, with the one I love,
Hold your hand,
And grow old together with you.
