Rewriting ancient poetry

On the edge of the short-strewn bridge, plum blossoms bloom quietly in the snow. At this time, I lived in a nearby inn. Inadvertently saw the plum blossoms that are open in the snow alone. "Plum, you are alone in the snow, is it just to attract the eyes of the tourists." A bitter cold wind blew over, far away, just like plum blossoming: "Not so, I choose to open in winter. Because I don't want to compete with the flowers for spring." I shook my head and didn't believe what Meihua said. "How many people in this world have chosen for power and official position, but how many people are honest and honest?" Plum continued: "With the flowers to compete for the beautiful spring, it will only be the result of a hundred flowers. Ironic." I shook my head, sighed softly, and returned to the room.

In a short while, I heard the sound of the carriage combined with the bitter cold wind. As the sound faded away, there was a faint scent from the window. It turned out that the cold wind blew the plum into the mud pit on the ground. At this time, a carriage quickly rushed to crush the plum into dusty powder, and then a faint scent came.

Plum, plum, you have been crushed into powder by the carriage, but you still retain your original fragrance, so sacred, so beautiful.

Your fragrance will always stay in my heart!