Who in the three lives will ask about the past and present, and weep for ghosts and gods with lingering thoughts.
When fate is over, I still find my way out of the spring, and when my soul returns, I still see the person in my dream.
The crows of crows in the city spread the word of grievance at night, and the trees in the tomb of resentment even recognize the incarnation.
The eternal green mountains will eventually be drained away, only the iron bones will remain unchanged.
Go up to the poor blue and fall down to the underworld ~
Intention: