The demon has no energy in the clouds, he has endured a thousand heavy crimes, and he holds his head high and bows to the blue clouds. The saint picks up stars in his hands, has the sun and moon in his chest, and sits high in the nine heavens. His longevity is only a small age. Gods and men have no merit, and saints have no name. If between heaven and earth, a tree blooms with thousands of flowers, demons, saints are all mine.
