The sun sets over the mountains and rivers, and the tide comes and the world becomes wet. If you want to drown your sorrow, you often hold a glass of wine. The vast ocean is just a bottle of wine, and who knows the bitterness and sweetness of it.
The nebula has become deserted, and the snow has come late. When the wind blows, I start to feel crazy. Drunk and covered with clothes, I can see dimly, but the shadow of the old figure is lost in tears.
Conception: