Like waking up, wake up slowly in the soft light.
It seems that you have been sleeping for thousands of years.
Melon is slowly maturing.
Bitter gourd is no longer bitter.
The sun grinds and the moon grinds, and the pregnancy is carved.
See the stem and beard? Around, palm touch.
In which year will it be sucked up like a mouth?
In ancient times, China was fed with milk.
Perfect roundness, fullness and fullness.
That sense of touch, constantly expanding outward.
Filled with every butter grape
Until the tip of the melon, it is still full of freshness of the day.
The vast Kyushu is only reduced to a map.
I didn't know how to fold it when I was a child.
Push away infinity.
Mother's memory is huge, her breasts.
You climbed to that fertile land?
Her elegant solution uses pedicels and root ropes.
Painful sympathy is hard to satisfy.
Whether it's misfortune or luck, baby.
The love of the whole continent is in a bitter gourd.
Leather is trampled, horseshoes are trampled.
The tracks of heavy chariots step on it.
Never left a scar.
It's hard to believe that there is only glass left.
Blessing with reluctance.
In the strange light outside time
Cooked, a self-sufficient universe
Full of rot, a fairytale fruit.
Not in the fairy mountain, but on earth.
Long rot, your predecessor, alas, long rot.
The hand that changed your tire is smart and elegant.
I am eager to extradite you.
Laugh at the soul flowing in the white jade
A song sings the bitterness and bitterness of life.
Be extradited forever, and the result will be sweet.