Qiu Lai wild fire oak forest, branches and branches have withered.
The sound of an axe is in the valley, and the green branches are collected.
The sun, the moon and the west are waiting for the companion to go down the mountain, and the bamboo pole is bent.
* * * I know that the road is crowded with tigers, and I dare not rest until I leave the mountains and forests.
In the west of the village, the black fox and the rabbit are walking, and the young children cry accordingly.
Wood pickers don't pick pines and cypresses.
The pine and cypress branches are tall and straight, and you make a house a home.