In an instant, black hair turns white, who can I tell about the passing of youth? If the spring breeze has a tender heart for flowers, could it grant me youth once more? I am an ordinary person, not a fairy; when faced with matters, I can only ask the heavens. Why is it only allowed for spring to return, but not for me to be young again?
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In an instant, black hair turns white, who can I tell about the passing of youth?
If the spring breeze has a tender heart for flowers, could it grant me youth once more?
I am an ordinary person, not a fairy; when faced with matters, I can only ask the heavens.
Why is it only allowed for spring to return, but not for me to be young again?