A poem describing slow time.

A poem that describes a short time but passes slowly.

Lonely pillow cold brocade, jathyapple leaks longer.

The day after tomorrow, how many tomorrows! Tomorrow will never come. The whole world will be tired tomorrow, and they will go to Qiu Lai as veterans in spring. What can you do tomorrow in a hundred years' time, watching the dusk flowing east and the sunset setting? Please listen to my song tomorrow.

After a farewell, the two places thought about it, only saying it was March and April, but who knows it will be five or six years.