The echo of footsteps in the chaos
A blazing flame of flashing power
When stepping into the trap of countless language weaving
Weak-willed people will bend over and wait and see, eager to leave.
From this morning's dreary wishes
A trace of comfort grew on the cold stone.
We strode forward with laughter.
Harvest season for every comedian.
It is also decorated with the darkness and numbness in the festival.
We trudged slowly on the wetland.
Listen to the voice of fate and knock on the door of the body.
Keep submitting the meaning of your initial commitment.