I am a wandering artist.
I am a dancer who eats the rosy clouds and sleeps on the willow trees.
Across thousands of mountains and rivers, I am dancing with red and pink colors.
In the wind and smoke, I stirred up all kinds of dust.
Although we have only tasted eighteen summers of cold and heat this year, we have already seen stains of wine and fat all over the place.
City after city, we stopped in countless places. There were hoarse cheers and loud curses. …