C29

Sword-cooked wine has no taste to drink a cup for who, you bid farewell to me, you bid farewell to me. The scent of rouge can not be given to love, how long the sky is. You are a hero, you are destined to have no tears! How dangerous that laugh is, it is the poison of the intestines; how beautiful the tears are, only you know, that the heart is not as ridiculous as yours