Beauty comes to the north of the city.

Linger in front of the twin towers,

What is my body like?

I love the head of this southern stream,

if you don't mind.

The poplars are so sad that they kill people,

and the beauty is sitting in the flying goblet.

Lingering chickens won the fight,

I heard this bird wish me soul.

I love this cloudy mountain, and it is true,

You hold the bridge to find out what you want.