Morning dew and night-blooming cereus are so close to each other that the world is far away. Humanity is like the ten meanders of the Yellow River, which eventually flows eastward. Eight thousand years old, withered and prosperous overnight, I asked the sky, why is this life necessary? Where the wind blew last night, I heard who was counting.
The sky is ninety thousand miles away, the wind is making shadows, who is it? After thousands of years of Beidou, the Yao palace is cold and miserable, not as good as a couple of gods and immortals, and a hundred years of rivers and lakes.