Painting: Song of Everlasting Sorrow

Based on the following ancient poem, paint a picture with the original text attached.
The Han emperor, obsessed with beauty, longed for a nation that could topple a nation; after ruling the realm, he sought it for many years but could not The Yang family has a daughter just coming of age, raised in a secluded chamber, unknown to the world. Born with natural beauty, hard to abandon, one day chosen to stand beside the emperor. A glance and a smile reveals a hundred charms; the beauties of the six palaces pale in comparison.
In the chill of spring, she is granted a bath at the Huaqing Pool; the warm spring water is smooth and cleanses her delicate skin. The maid helped her up, delicate and weak; this was the first time she had newly received imperial favor. Cloud-like hair, flower-like face, golden pendants swaying; beneath the hibiscus canopy, warmly passing the spring night. The spring night is bitterly short, and I rise late at sunrise; from then on, the emperor no longer attends morning court.
Enjoying pleasure and attending banquets without a moment's rest; spring follows spring outings, night is devoted to night. Three thousand beauties in the harem, all three thousand favors bestowed upon one person. In the golden chamber, she is adorned and serves her tenderly through the night; after the banquet in the jade tower, she is drunk with the harmony of spring. Sisters and brothers are all granted lands; how pitiful is the brilliance that shines upon the household. Thus, the hearts of parents throughout the land are changed to value daughters over sons.
The lofty palace of Li rises into the blue clouds, immortal music drifts on the wind, heard everywhere. Slow songs and slow dances blend with strings and flutes; all day long, the emperor never tires of watching. The war drums of Yuyang thunder across the land, shattering the Rainbow Skirt and Feathered Coat melody. Smoke and dust rise over the ninefold city walls, as thousands of chariots and horsemen march southwest.
The imperial banners swayed, advancing and halting, heading west beyond the capital gates for over a hundred li. The six armies do not advance, helpless; the graceful moth-like brows die before the horse. Flower ornaments lie scattered on the ground, no one to gather them; emerald hairpins, golden sparrows, and jade hairpins hang their hair. The emperor covers his face, unable to save her; looking back, blood and tears flow together.
Yellow dust drifts in the bleak wind, the clouded plank path winds as I ascend Sword Gate. Beneath Mount Emei, few people travel; banners lack their luster, and the daylight is dim. The waters of the Shu River are clear, the mountains of Shu are green; the sovereign's feelings linger day and night. In the temporary palace, seeing the moon brings sorrow; hearing bells in the night rain breaks my heart.
Heaven and earth spin as the dragon carriage returns; arriving here, I hesitate, unable to leave. Beneath Mawei Slope, in the mud, the jade-like face is nowhere to be seen, only the place where she died in vain. The ruler and ministers gaze at each other, their robes soaked with tears; looking east toward the city gate, they let their horses follow their paths and return.
Returning, the ponds and gardens remain as before; the lotus of Taiye Lake and the willows of Weiyang Palace. The hibiscus is like a face, the willows like eyebrows; how can one not shed tears before this? On days when peach and plum blossoms bloom in the spring breeze, and when autumn rains fall on parasol tree leaves. In the western palace and southern chambers, autumn grass grows thick; fallen leaves cover the steps, red and left unswept.
The disciples of the Pear Garden now have new white hair, while the palace attendants of the pepper chamber have grown old. In the evening palace, fireflies flit as quiet thoughts arise; by the lonely lamp, I trim it low, yet sleep does not come. The lingering bells and drums mark the start of the long night; the bright Milky Way signals the coming dawn. The mandarin-tile tiles are cold, heavy with frost; who will share the chill of the kingfisher quilt? Year after year, life and death have been parted for years; my soul has never come to enter my dreams.
The Daoist priest of Linqiong, a guest from Hongdu, was able to summon souls with utmost sincerity. Moved by the king's restless longing, he then instructed the alchemists to diligently search. Soaring through the skies, riding the air, rushing like lightning, ascending to heaven and descending to earth, seeking everywhere. Searching the azure heavens above and the yellow springs below, in both vast realms, nothing can be seen.
Suddenly, he heard of a fairy mountain on the sea, the mountain shrouded in ethereal mist. The pavilions and towers are exquisite, rising amid five-colored clouds, within which many graceful immortals dwell. Among them was one named Taizhen, whose snowy skin and flower-like beauty were unevenly matched.
At the western wing of the Golden Palace, I knock on the jade door, then send Xiao Yu to report to Shuangcheng. I hear that the Son of Heaven of Han has sent an envoy; within the Nine-Flowered canopy, my dreams and soul are startled. I grasp my clothes, push aside my pillow, and rise to pace; pearl curtains and silver screens open side by side. Cloud-like hair half askew from sleep, her flowered crown untidy as she descends the hall. The wind lifts the immortal robes, fluttering and rising, just like the Rainbow Skirt and Feathered Garment dance. Her jade-like face is lonely, tears dripping down the balustrade; a branch of pear blossoms carries spring rain.
With tender feelings, she gazes intently to thank the sovereign; after parting, voice and visage both fade into the distance. In the Zhaoyang Palace, love is severed; in the Penglai Palace, the days and months endure. Turning back to gaze upon the mortal world, Chang'an is nowhere to be seen, only dust and mist remain. Only by sending old keepsakes can I express my deep feelings, sending you a jeweled box and golden hairpin. The hairpin holds one strand and one fan; the hairpin splits the gold and divides the jeweled box. If only my heart were as steadfast as gold and jewels, we would meet again in heaven and on earth.
At parting, I earnestly send you words once more; within these words lies a vow known only to both hearts. On the seventh day of the seventh month, at the Hall of Eternal Life, at midnight, when no one was around, they whispered in secret. In heaven, may we be birds flying side by side; on earth, may we be branches intertwined. Heaven and earth may last forever, but this sorrow stretches on without end.