A poem describing my youthful days as a student.

Old things are like new paintings, and warm wind intoxicated tall buildings.

I love my sister in the morning glow, and I am full of joy in the evening.

Young people dream of spring, while old people are afraid of autumn.

Ordinary enlightenment vigil, tears shadow eyes.

-

(the second song)

Let acacia cross the river of dreams and let him suffer again.

The last romance can accompany you, and the years have not been in vain.

Let's see that the clouds are gone and there are waves in the sad sea.

Youth gives me three tears. I owe a lot to youth songs.

-

(The third song)

Silent with the railing, smelling the flute, the yellow leaves are charming and wild.

Clear water and red beans bend, heartbroken is a bridge for foreign mothers.

It is difficult to read vaguely under the lamp, and suddenly it is lonely.

Butterflies are thin, and a person listens to the rainy night and hits bananas.

-

(the fourth song)

Conan wakes up easily, dreams are hard to accept, and life is full of blood shed.

Time is like smoke, don't say bitter, time is like water, don't worry.

Autumn leaves are still sparse, and Leng Xue is softer.

Play the pipa and sing it to yourself. The railing will make you cry.

-

(the fifth song)

I remember Xiang Mei accompanied by Mo Xiang, and Liu Lang was walking with a pen.

Old Kun bird, heroism into empty Du Kang.

Dreaming was once a vast lake, but it was about chrysanthemum yellow.

Sitting by the fence for a long time, I don't know if I will come back, and my thoughts are misty.

-

(the sixth song)

Years are like frost, and the breeze makes me drunk on tall buildings.

The long clear water reflects the morning glow, and the short red dust receives the dusk.

All the ups and downs in the world are dreams, and people are afraid of welcoming autumn.

Ordinary people don't feel old and thin.

-

(the seventh song)

My heart is tender, but I still can't help saying goodbye to the pot. The door of Liu Pu's house is half-closed.

Walking around the house, Xiang Yun was satisfied with her new hair, but she was afraid to review it with yellow ink.

The willow wind intends to keep the silkworm old, and the sweet-scented osmanthus is fragrant and the moonlight is light.

The scenery is hazy, but the dream is dull as a dream.