Manzhu and Shahua, their flowers and leaves will never meet.
When you need to cross the Santu River, she will come to pick you up.
I moved my long straight hair and heard a lengthy whine. I left the cyan silk behind just to wait until I got entangled with you until the point where I could only cut it off.
Tear the rugged mountain peaks into pieces of music. Only the mournful cry of the vulture can be played.
Let the aging self and the roaring earth merge from texture, texture and state