I was young.
Send you in the sound of firecrackers.
Sorghum weaving of the big horse,
Ride you up in a hurry
The good things of the world are packed in a basket,
The horse's mouth was coated with honey.
It is better to go back, it is better to go back...
Later, when I was older,
Dumplings are sent to you in the heat.
Without horses, without grain,
Stove sugar sticks to your legs and feet.
The head of the awe-inspiring family,
Left alone.
And now the heart is old,
Send you on the TV screen.
Next to the gas stove in the unit building,
Where to put your shrine?
Murmuring prayers in your ears,
Can't whisk away the dust off your face.
Twenty-three days to go,
Is it?
One point number Language country flourishes