Emotion is like smoke on the road in winter.
Gray, dirty, yellow and even irritable.
Although I worked hard, I dug this place with a hoe.
No ripe sweet potatoes were found.
Don't talk about poetry, the pastoral of poetry occasionally grows grass.
Occasionally nest for insects
Looking for rice fields full of flowers
From Guangzhou to Dongguan, get off the expressway.
A thorn bird in western Sichuan
Dig 12 poisonous weeds seeds from my back.
I looked up at the sky and smiled, and the river blocked in my heart was dredged.
The torrent rolled eastward.
Not all unhappy people can.
Rescue a bird.
I should thank life.
It likes to stir up trouble.
Didn't push me down the lake of despair.