Look through a pot of wine flowers. I am travel-stained, working hard all the way, but the word maturity has climbed to the sideburns. It is not the word "dust" that can be said. There are thousands of words in the snowy night, and the road ahead is still at a loss. After drinking this cup of wine, I will embark on a new journey. I have no fame before, no landing after, and my blood is boiling, but I have wasted my good years.
I have had many beautiful dreams, and I risked my life to forget my death in the journey of chasing dreams, but I didn't know that the poems and the distance in reality were not as beautiful as I imagined. I don't know where to go in this lonely place, but I won't give up. If I just talk about my ideals, I might as well go back to my hometown to farm as soon as possible. The above is for reference.