The rings, It is like accumulating in the trees over the seasons. Different from the depths of the rooted earth, Each of the traces left in the deep base, Like being naked, A broken heart is revealed. From the look on his face, The rings and traces, Grow a new branch again. Or, let's worry about whether it will rot and rot. Accidentally discovered, Not a coincidence, The traces left in the cut base of the tree, Having abandoned reality, I was projected.