Yan Jidao: to the tune "Magnolia flowers"
Double curtains fall in the swing yard at dusk, and color brushes cease to work in her boudoir.
Inside the walls, the rain has left over some red apricot flowers, outside the door, the poplar fluffs fly after the wind.
If faith in dawn clouds (a girl named Xiaoyun) is lost, where to go? I have to make me free from king Xiangwang's springtime dream.
Purple Steed, you know the old paths; neighing you cross a painted bridge on the way across the eastern banks.
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