Autumn wind rises, Ye Xiaoxiao, pedestrians are in a hurry;
Climbing the stairs, Tiantouliao, fruits and vegetables are still green;
Wind chimes ring, the north wind whistles, light clouds cage the moon cool;
Inside the grass curtain, the stove is on fire, and the tea fragrance is light;
The night furnace, on sangma, talk about the north and the south of the earth;
What evening this evening?
The original young man, now the bald man, with a flick of his finger;
The moon should be sung, the toast should be drunk, what can life be?
How many emperors and generals, how many white pudding,
"How many ancient and modern things are in the midst of laughter."
