Chinese Flower Pot
On the blank lug,the Chinese flower is mapped out,the stroke turns from strong to light.The Peony flower that is portrayed on the vase body is like your initial makeup.The Sandalwood fragrance gradually passes through the window,I understand the matters in your heart.On the Xuan paper,the moving pen is placed here half way.
Washes of glaze colour on the drawing of the lady hide the attractionAnd your captivating smile is like a flower waiting to blossomYour beauty scatters into a wisp,Going to a place I can't go.
The azure colour is waiting for the misty rainAnd I'm waiting for youThe chimney smoke gracefully risesSeparated by the river millions of miles apartOn the base of the vase is inscribed with Hanshu1 imitating the grace of the former dynasty.Just pretend I am foreshadowing my meeting with you.
The azure colour is waiting for the misty rainAnd I'm waiting for youThe moonlight is fished upBlurring the endingAs if the Chinese flower pot that is passed on from generation to generation,caring only about it's own beauty.Your eyes carry a smile.
The white and flower blue Koi fish has already jumped into the bottom of the bowl.Yet when I copy the Song typeface of the signature I'm missing you.You are hidden in the kiln,1000 year old secret.Extremely exquisite like a embroidery needle falling to the ground.
Outside the curtain, the banana tree draws showers of rain of itThe door knocker incurs copper rustAnd I pass by that small town by the River South and attract youIn the splash-ink landscape paintingYou are hidden away deep in the ink colour