In the evening, the jackdaws are sad, but the willow pond is fresh and tender. If you don't have hatred in your eyes, you don't believe that there are white heads in the world.
My intestines are broken and my tears are hard to hold back. Acacia returns to the Little Red Building. Love and knowledge have been blocked by mountains, and I often lean against the railings and cannot feel free.
Intention: The era cannot be tested, the characters cannot be tested, and there is no need to explore.