Before I put hops, I want to ask heaven. Spring has come and autumn has gone. Wind and rain are everywhere. What is this? But to teach the grass to occupy the fleeting time.

Try to push the cymbal Zheng Huizhu. Not in the mood. The wine column clears tears and drops cinnabar. Take care of yourself by yourself. Laugh lightly. But I suspect that spring scenery is in Chanjuan.

Looking at the residual red in the wind and rain in front of hops, facing the passage of time, I was at a loss and full of worries, and came to a swaying grass to predict the future fate.