228 The world is a tree, I am a nut, I am lifted very high, I curl up to the circle, after getting the sun, slowly my face becomes thicker and thicker, a smile to wrinkles, I always think that I can repay the world, when I am old, I must crack, not like people talk nonsense There will be a strange smell on the body, of course, it is not a little fresh, I have an old bone, I have a belly of insight, I will babble endlessly, tell my daughter-in-law, say it to my grandchildren......

"The Song of Things" poem, additional prose I am a nut is in the hand, please wait a moment,

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