Yu Guangzhong
Eternal yearning for different elements
Hot and cold in different spaces.
I don't know whether to go up or down.
Rise like a phoenix in fire.
Or a transparent swan floating in the flow
The pure white image reflects the self.
A long neck and a full body are made up of arcs.
Have a desire to wash and burn.
Both are needed in the purification process.
Flutter that needs precipitation and fluttering.
Go into the water to put out the fire for birds, firebirds and waterfowl.
Which process should I choose?
There is a swan swimming in the ice sea in the west.
This is a cold zone, a superhuman climate.
That ice is lonely and frozen.
Silence is time, how complete the reflection is.
Once upon a time, every wild goose was a swan
The water waves are sparkling and unreal, as if they were really in the East.
There is a phoenix in the hot east.
What comes from the fire still has to go back to the fire.
Step by step, a fire danced in the flames.
A burning crow can't burn Feng Chu.
A feather of the sun rises forever, trembling.
A person clearing fire is a journey of a warrior.
Glorious reincarnation is the soul from element to element.
White peacock swan crane white fan
Time stood still, and there was a wise hermit in the middle.
An eternal flame that flows forever
Wash away the sins of warriors, the blood of warriors.
How should you choose your soul?
Choose cold in cold or hot in hot?
Choose the ice sea or the sun.
A neat soul is unclean.
Either ice bath or fire bath is complete.
The enviable completion and bathing in the fire.
Fire bath is more admirable and more difficult.
Fire is more transparent than water and deeper than fire.
Fire, the door of eternal life is arched by death
The challenge of arching an arc with death
Said the dead can't live without hugging.
It's a crow or a phoenix that decides instantly.
A moment of will □ fire.
Accept the death penalty of 1000 sticks
Shout calmly at the thousand words criticized.
I am not guilty! I am not guilty! I am not guilty! Burn your back
I still am. I still am.
Wake up my soul. What's wrong with waking up?
Make public seemed to smell the burning arm in the distance.
The hurricane of time roared my wings.
Hair, crying, bones, moaning, with your own blood.
Put up with flying to Feng Chu, your freshman.