Life is short, interests come first, and it goes round and round, just like the wheel of history, crushing batches of souls, and only after the withered grass has passed will new sprouts emerge. Dreams are great and splendid, but they can never be realized. Passers-by in the world or time and space, are you really like this because of suffering in your heart? Or are you just that withered grass bud, which is inherently bad...
Intention: to judge the world and the time, to enjoy the hardships