I once had a dream of yellow beams in this forest of purple mist and green cage.
With those black hair and white curls, I leaned drunk on the Penglai Tower.
The surname is not Sun in the Taoshan Mountain, and the pigs in Fuling Cave are screaming.
The owl perches in the ginseng fruit tree, and the hibiscus weeps and reveals the sweet smile.
At sunset in the Western Mountains, there are cows, horses and snake gods, and the young man becomes addicted to chanting.
He told a series of lies about immortality.
