A thousand roads without footprints.

A boat, a bamboo cloak,

An old man was fishing in the cold river snow.

In August and autumn, the wind roared and rolled up my three hairs. Hair flew over the river and sprinkled on the periphery of the river. The highest one hangs a long forest tip, and the lower one floats to Shentang 'ao.

The children in Nancun bully me. I can stand being a thief. I openly carried Mao into the bamboo forest, and my lips were so dry that I couldn't breathe. When I came back, I sighed on crutches.

The wind in Russia sets the color of clouds and ink, and the desert becomes dark in autumn. This cloth has been as cold as iron for many years, and Joule has been lying down and cracking. There is no dry place in the bedside table, and the feet are numb with rain. How can you get wet all night since you are in a mess and don't get enough sleep!

There are tens of millions of buildings in Ande, which greatly protect all the smiles of the poor in the world, and the wind and rain are as quiet as mountains. Oh! When I suddenly see this house in front of me, I will freeze to death alone!