The Burial Flower [Guitar Solo]
Flowers wither and scatter, filling the sky,
Who will pity the loss of their fragrance?
Soft threads sway, drifting around the Spring Pavilion,
Light cotton fluff gently brushes against the embroidered curtains.
In the boudoir, the young maiden cherishes the fading spring,
Anxiety fills her heart with no relief.
With a flower hoe in hand, she steps out through the embroidered curtains,
Enduring the tread of fallen petals as she comes and goes.
Willow silk and elm catkins exude their fragrant beauty,
Regardless of whether peach blossoms or plum blossoms float away;
Peaches and plums will bloom again next year,
But who in the boudoir will know next year's bloom?
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