Use a poem to describe a person who is sleepy and bored.

The wind has stopped the dust, the fragrant flowers have blossomed, and I am tired of combing my hair at night. Things are people, not everything, and tears flow first.

Since leaving, spring has passed halfway, and the scenery in my eyes has swept to a broken heart. The order of autumn may be like snow in the snow, brush it off and then flow down full.

Hongyan has flown back, the journey is far away, and the dream is hard to come true. The sadness of parting is like weeds in spring, which go further and further.

I dreamed of entering the smoky waterway in the south of the Yangtze River, traveling all over the south of the Yangtze River and not meeting people who left you.

I tried to make this love letter as simple as possible, but in the end there was no evidence. However, I broke Qin Zhenglie by relying on slow-string songs.