That pen, with tears in its eyes,
Bit by bit, flowing on rice paper,
I just want to pick it up and suddenly feel countless sorrows.
The hand that trusts the horse,
Looking, I can't find the direction of my dream.
Helpless ahead, confused at the foot.
That man, with hope,
Year after year, time shattered dreams,
Through the eyes, the vicissitudes of paper are not covered.
Messy lines, combined with their own portraits,
The original me, it turned out to be like this.
Second, walk in the clouds.
In my dream, I walked through the clouds and watched them gather.
Thinking about the floating world like floating clouds makes me a little more indifferent.
In my dream, I walked through the clouds and watched the clouds change in Huan Yun.
Thinking of Sang Hai Sangtian makes me more calm.
In my dream, I walked through the clouds and watched them roll.
Thinking about the wild cranes in the idle clouds makes me a little more carefree.
But I know I don't have this lightness,
You can't go to the clouds for inspiration,
Then only by increasing the weight of life,
Stand firm on the earth.