The thistle outside suddenly spread the sword, and at first I couldn't control the tears pouring down from my coat. Where are my wife and son? There is not a trace of sadness on their faces. However, I packed my books and poems crazily.
On a green spring day, I began to go home, singing my songs loudly and drinking my wine. Come back from this mountain, pass another mountain, go up from the south and then go north-to my own town! .