ConceptArt - 八六子·倚危亭

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I leaned on the danger pavilion alone, the resentment is like spring grass, has just been cleaned, imperceptibly has grown out. It makes me sad to think of riding apart outside the willows, and of parting with that lady by the water. Beauty, why did God give you so beautiful? And I can't get out of it? That year in the night moon, we drunk together into a curtain of dreams, gentle spring breeze blowing you and me. It is helpless, the joy of the past are accompanied by water away, the fragrance on the green gauze gradually fades, no longer hear your sweet music. Now has come to the spring season, patches of residual red flying in the night, a little drizzle under the next clear, fog a fan misty. My melancholy is thick, suddenly came the crow of the oriole, a sound.