Tonight the moonlight out thousands of miles in autumn, with days of no table. Jiao Jiao Pan dragon trees, roof tiles 鳞鳞 Xueshuang wash. Wake forest patient s hair, head loves pure light not friends. The sound from the sounds of autumn for yu, but sent from the city late at night wars. Unable to sleep off the cold early quilt, suddenly had the poem Oh to Joy. Son begged me, and how hard-working, and I know less dry sparse friends. I often deliberately child love, security speech by Wu trouble pen on paper.