A poem about a talented but ill-fated man. It can be written by the ancients or created by oneself.

Make the first attempt;

Flowers bloom and fall, and there is no chance to thank myself early.

Raise your sword and split it horizontally.

But I can't get rid of it

Huai Yu was troubled and lonely.

Modaochou

Don't worry about this. Autumn is coming

A pot of broken soul wine

How dare Yamaraja shout?

Sleep for a thousand years

Clear sky