“. . . Like ashes of gold in a cinnamon-flame,My youthful desires have been burnt with the years– And tonight in the chilling sunset-windA cicada, singing, weighs on my heart.”
“. . . Like ashes of gold in a cinnamon-flame,My youthful desires have been burnt with the years– And tonight in the chilling sunset-windA cicada, singing, weighs on my heart.”
Haoran MengSave QuoteView Quote
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“. . . Like ashes of gold in a cinnamon-flame,My youthful desires have been burnt with the years– And tonight in the chilling sunset-windA cicada, singing, weighs on my heart.”
Haoran MengSave QuoteView Quote
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