Time is long. I stand by and watch you on the other side of the river, and a little smile appears on my face. If I say love city, it's only because you're in town. what is love ? That's just for your tenderness. In the early autumn, the wind is getting bleak, and a little red makes the fleeting time beautiful. A pool of tenderness swings through layers of ripples, and wheatgrass is old, leaving many hangovers.