One night, the storm rose.

The weather in Melbourne suddenly turned cold and gloomy.

Immediately afterwards, the flow of people on the street became very small, and in the small park under the balcony, the singer was still trying.

Only songs are eternal.

The birth of poetry was first derived from the praise of bards.

The story is edited into a poem, and then the bard is passed down the roadside, by the fountain square, or in the tavern

Chapter 140 of "Entertainment Prosperity: I Just Want to Be a Salted Fish" One night, the wind and clouds are in the middle of the hand, please wait a while,

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