The sorrow of locking away is endless, and it is first smoked when you come. The people who embroider the weft think of the dewdrops hanging from the distance, and weep as they bid farewell to the journey. The long line is in the eye, but the weight is heavier, and the water is far away and the clouds are lonely. But the watchtower is so high that the king and his grandson can be seen even under the sun. After leaving the pond, where I once walked, I was jealous of the green crowd. At any time, I carry my bare hands, walking slowly among the scattered flowers and flying catkins. Zhu Yankong changes himself, and his fragrance grows new year after year. All over the green fields, you can play and get drunk, but don't lose your youth.