Eight Things to Stop Doing After Retirement
The sound of a high-pitched wind comes from afar, not because of the autumn wind.
Spring hasn't yet turned green, but my hair has already turned silver. I've been separated from the world for too long, and it doesn't cause me sorrow.
Year after year, year after year, flowers are similar, and people are different.
Year after year, year after year, I look forward to the Mid-Autumn Festival, and year after year, year after year, there are clouds and rain filled with sorrow.
Before the flower-gate and tower, I see autumn grasses, how could I look down on poverty and hardship?
In the world, everything is transient, like a strand of hair, lighter than Mount Tai.
Time is fleeting, and parting is easy to destroy the soul. Let us drink and sing, and there is no need to say goodbye frequently.
Who taught me to linger in the red lotus night, contemplating alone?
The most beautiful spring passes once in a year, surpassing all the willow trees in the imperial city. (Excellent prose)
()
