Moe Academy: Resurrection Battle

Your life is like a flying yarn wrapped around a history book. Time flies, but you are still reluctant to leave. That elegant sadness slowly permeates your growth, which is so beautiful, yet so desolate. The wind returns to the small courtyard, the willow eyes continue the spring, and your youth at that time is on the swing. Yi An, is it you? The call that can't be restrained makes shyness bloom two red calyxes on your cheeks, and escape gracefully. The spring is in full bloom, and the green plums invite you. You, smelling the breath of spring, step on the setting sun that is broken for you and come to the pavilion by the stream. The lotus flowers sway, walk and stop, and the gulls and herons fly. In the jade pole that is standing tall and clean, the hazy starlight reflects a trace of holiness for you. It is this you who attracted Mingcheng to stop. I bought a branch of spring that is about to bloom, and I asked my lover to compare it. How can the flower face compare with the slave face? Smile lightly, chant lightly, and the tenderness of water entangles your green plum-like heart. How dare the sorrow haunt you during this beautiful time? In the quiet years, you grow slowly and gracefully, like a newly blossoming bud, each petal exuding a bright fragrance. However, there will always be a day of continuous autumn rain. The long separation makes the red lotus fragrance fade, and the jade mat ushered in autumn. How can a tender heart bear thousands of sorrows? Looking at the geese looking back, the moonlight is sprinkled all over the west building. The sorrow that goes down the eyebrows and comes back to the heart, the two places are looking for each other, it is a bleak autumn. Rouge tears, leaving people drunk, the wind is sparse and the rain is sudden, how can the crabapple remain the same? Searching from morning to night, only to be replaced by a cold and desolate place, how can it not be miserable? The geese I met in the old days, can you take Yi An's sorrow to Ming Cheng? Let the sorrowful heart stop on the yellow flowers, and the Rui brain is entangled with the sorrow of separation. You place your sorrow on all the flying things, elegantly covering yourself with a layer of gorgeous sorrow. You grow up, chanting poems one by one, witnessing the years pushing you to maturity. Like a blooming lotus, exuding an elegant charm. Li Yu turned his sorrow into the east flowing water, Zhaojun led his sorrow to the desert, but you, you carry this sorrow, how can the boat bear it? How can you bear the Jingkang Rebellion, the eternal separation of heaven and man. Things are no longer the same, everything is over, tears flow before you want to speak. Your lovesick heart, mixed with the drizzling tung leaves, accompanied by Mingcheng's death, turned into dust. Sorry, who will share the wine and poetry with you, tears melt the heavy flowers. In the midst of the diffuse sorrow, you have become strong, still growing slowly and gracefully. Live as a hero, die as a ghost hero, still miss Xiang Yu, who refused to cross the Yangtze River. In the transformation of sorrow and joy, fate has always been tied to the country. But how can a weak woman like you bear the ruin of the country? Leave quickly! But you are no longer the little girl playing with the plum blossoms. Although you are like a lonely boat, the huge waves can't overturn you. Facing Zhang Ruzhou's deception, your divorce letter made people sigh in ancient and modern times. You are just a weak woman, why do you have such great courage? You answered my question with an elegant smile. Even if you are just a petal, everything you have nurtured has already made you brilliant and fragrant. You are a wonderful flower, growing slowly and gracefully, spreading your beauty and fragrance with all your heart. Along the way, you have endured too much and grown too much. Not only do you look down on women, you want to overwhelm men. But if possible, I would rather you bloom on the other side of the bright moon, a peaceful and prosperous era. It's not that you don't want to leave, but the ripples of time can't accommodate poems like yours, which are slow and elegant.