The girl who collects flowers and flowers has disappeared without trace, and I have lost the mood of visiting mountains and waters at once. In a strange land, I always express my sorrow by writing poems, and I have my heart to appreciate the scene of spring.
Last year's swallows flew to the far south. Whose swallows should fall in whose house this year? Don't listen to the night's wind and rain in March. The rain does not bloom, but it falls red everywhere.
