Looking to the end of the world, I can’t see you warm and warm, only the dead leaves and cold sycamore trees, which is the most chilling and desolate thing. A room full of dust, dyed with smoke and snow, who will leave the remaining red and light waves on the pavilion? The vast ocean is always too vast. The wind is miserable, the night is too cold, the clouds are falling thousands of feet, the love is too cold, the dream is full of fireworks, everything is empty and lonely, how can I moan? I sigh when I am sad, sigh when I am cold, and weep when I am sad. A glass of sake will make you drunk.