I want to write some poems or essays praising the air.

At the foot of the rocky mountain, it is dusk and the weather is still sultry.

Several leaves fell from the dry bark.

Like a few bugs, crawling slowly in clothes.

I dreamed of riding to Tianshan Mountain last night.

Go to Suzhou Amusement Park Racecourse and get on that reddish-brown horse.

It's already night. August wind

Scraping back and forth in the distance, scraping back and forth.

Then I arrived outside Suzhou and stopped slowly.

You sit on horseback, take me with you, with the colors in the dusk.

Move to another country bit by bit.

I am a former scholar, holding your photo and walking to the foot of Lion Mountain.

I grow flowers in a Lanruo Temple at the foot of Shishan Mountain.

Autumn, winter, spring and summer.

In old age. My body grows into a plant.

Specific to teeth, to fish, and blue glass city.

The dying sidewalk-sending flowers to Xiao Li