68-word ancient poetry is positive.

Independent cold autumn, Xiangjiang River north, Orange Island. You see the mountains and plains, and the layers of forests are all dyed; The river is full of water, and hundreds of people compete for the flow. The eagle strikes the sky, the fish is shallow, and all kinds of frost fight for freedom. Lonely, ask the boundless earth, who is in charge of ups and downs?

I took a hundred couples on a trip to reminisce about the past years. Just a classmate and teenager, in full bloom; Scholar spirit, Fang Qiu. Pointing out the maze, inspiring words, the dirt in Wan Huhou that year. Remember hitting the water in the middle stream and the waves stopped the speedboat?