Hundred flowers snow, temples down as silk. Spring went there to Japan, I am old and not a little time. Life to be rich, for the sake of often bitter late. As poor and lowly day, with the separation of knitted brows. Sell my riding, the Code towards my old clothes. Make the Gujiu drink, Ming Ding return walk. First Name Last Name Day vague, Xinghai diurnal decline. Zuiwo Huang Kung Stanford, who knows who I am.