Looking forward to spring sorrow, the sky is dark. In the afterglow of the grass, no one will lean on the fence and be silent.

Wine is accompanied by loneliness, not loneliness. I found out after I was drunk, but I didn't remember the people around me. I learned to drink when I was alone, and learned to smoke when I was alone. Slowly, I became bad.

Wine becomes sorrow, acacia becomes tears. Don't say I have a bad temper. In this world, if I don't protect myself, who will?

Human nature is thin and cool, how enthusiastic it is when it is used, and how indifferent it is when it is not used.