Midjourney - 踏莎行·候馆梅残

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The plum blossom in front of the guest house has withered, and the new thin willow hangs lightly beside the stream bridge. The spring breeze rides on the grass and people leap and whip. The more far away from sorrow, the more exhausted, like the water of the long spring river. An inch of tenderness pain broken, line ying drips powder tears, do not climb tall buildings to see the railing. At the end of the flat grass lay the mountains of spring, beyond which the traveller was still.