Tsui Ping cold evening, autumn tree thinning ocher, Twin Peaks on from north to south. Good and Ji-day phase, Budo is the West pole. ROADS steep place, clouds were Bi. Man racking, youth travel clog. Near home, I looked away empty, the water separated off smoke. Busy by Yongjin floor, glittering waves heart, such as washing dreams flooded pen. Chong Kok wake sleeping dragons, strong commercial wing disk space. West Lake Road, into the tired passengers. Be written Qian, Su fine silk thousand feet. Will go back, wine at the end lace, Youzi see.