When the spring flowers are gone, they pass away with the wind, and the sparrows enter the forest and fly with the clouds.
The wind and the remaining clouds change rapidly, and the entanglement of grudges and grudges is intoxicating.
The angry horse in bright clothes is a young man who will never return once he enters the world of mortals.
When I am old, I sit alone in the sunset and recall my youth over a glass of wine.
This article is an extra of "Juedai Youran"
But it's a standalone story
Intention: