A poem containing the word Yang.

In spring in Budze, the balcony is faint and everything shines.

Cold and bleak, there seems to be a voice advising you to drink more wine. There is no reason to go out to the sun, the balcony is faint, and everything is brilliant.

Cold and bleak, like a voice, advise you to make another glass of wine. There is no reason for people to go west to Yangguan.