A disorderly life, crazy days, no sunshine, no partners, one person's footsteps cannot leave too many shadows.
You say you are in heaven, but in fact you are in this region, which is just a human hell.
The roaring ones are the notes of the world, and the quiet ones are the charm of nature. I am on this side of the world, and the other me is on the other side of the world. Unable to get ahead.
The pessimistic letters and whirling strokes are just their own solo dance in the long river of time. Is it important? Not important?
I want to shout loudly: What can you do to me? What can you do to me?