A philosophical poem describing clouds, flowers, water and wind. Thank you.

The tree wants to keep quiet, but the wind will not stop; My son wants to serve his parents when they are old, but they are gone.

One day, I will ride the wind and waves, raise the Yun Fan and cross the sea.

Spent a similar year, each year is different.

Qian Fan crossed the ship's rail; Ten thousand saplings grow on the dead trees. )

The deceased is like this, but he has never been there; If you are full of emptiness, the dead will not rise and fall.

Zi said in Sichuan: "The deceased is like a husband, not giving up day and night."