Previous years on the 10th rain, bitter cold hungry child Sang. Elegy sit empty room, do not complain but since the tragedy. The Friends of the name Zaiyu, suddenly worry and think. Img Sang touch mud, wrapped in rice to eat. Entry is relatively language, without doubt good fate. Park officials paint a good thing, keep the letter of the word male. Millennium matter has been away, the word love can be pushed. I read Cipian day, when Han Xue time. My body, though it is trapped, my friend What else is. Lack of thin porridge wrapped, deep mud and understanding difficult to Chi. No matter who Zaiyu, empty sub-Fu Sang poetry.