The name of this poem is Time. The whole poem is read by Qian Fan. It is not easy to solve the problem of oil and salt, and it is not easy to know that time and tide wait for no man. Nearly forty years old, my ambition is fading, and I sigh that my youth is gone forever. I got nothing from all this, and my forehead was half white. Eyes wandering, a full face of gloom. With a lot of luggage, it is difficult to lift your legs. Time has given me a hundred pounds of meat, but have I left a fortune or two? This poem means that life is only a few decades, because there is no time to grasp, no struggle, no effort. When you are old, you don't mean to get anything.