The setting sun is infinitely beautiful and buried by the coming night.

Alone in a dangerous building, the wind is thin, and I hope to leave my sorrow.

My heart thinks of hell, true self and depravity for heaven.

Years (flowers) are similar, but years (people) are different.

At night, the wind is whistling and the flowers are cool. The sun, the moon and the stars are silent, and my heart is full of sadness. Why do they complain about the world? They don't like the elegance of the coming year. They are indifferent and prosperous.

If life is just like the first sight, the autumn wind is bleak, but the heart is always changing, but the heart is always changing.

Prosperity in the wind, thousands of years of snow and frost, drifting away, a little dust, looking back at the sunset, filled with emotion, faded after prosperity.

Looking back on yesterday, people are scattered today.

Some of them are excerpts, I hope I like them and adopt them.