From the Song Dynasty poet Liu Yong's Liang Zhu Liu Yong.
Leaning against the dangerous building, the wind is fine, looking forward to spring sorrow, and the sky is dark. In the afterglow of the grass, no one will lean on the fence and be silent.
I plan to get drunk on the map of madness and sing songs for wine, which is strong and tasteless. I don't regret that my belt is getting wider and wider, which makes people haggard for Iraq.