As the book says:

What can't be reached is the distance

What you can't go back to is your hometown

The poet's natural mission is to wander

Spring, summer, autumn and winter, the mountains are high and the water is long

And grow slowly

He measured the world with his feet

Non-stop pursuit of ideals

What is out of reach is the distance

That's the paradise where dreams are born

Legend has it that there are countless treasures there

But there is no desire to be clean

The poet does not go to hell to wander

But there is no paradise for poets

The poet's home is far away

The grave of the poem is his hometown

"You are my unfinished poem" The poet has no heaven is hitting in his hand, please wait a moment,

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