The award-winning work of Peking University Peiwen Cup: turning into a coffee cup dressed in fur, to you

into a fur-clad coffee cup.

Fill it with clear, pearl-colored wine, and toast you.

To thee in the clean dawn

Watching you drink it down.

And watch the remaining pearls drop by drop

seep into my light brown skin.

Imprisonment

You frown and tell me, not enough

You said everyone was drunk, and you

Tired of waking up alone, do you think the river of Miluo

would be the clearest.

But I never thought that there would be something on the old and hard riverbed

Red spikes, green mud.

When you touch it with your toe, it's a bit of chaos.

You caressed my fur tenderly

It's like touching your country with holes and holes

"How much I resemble you." You look at me and you whisper

In the muddy old tears, the fisherman walked away with a song

Your tears fall on my chest

It's hot, don't worry

I'll keep it in my heart and never leave it.

You say to me, good wine!

But I see amber light shining on your pale beard

Must have drunk too much?

People say you're friends with the moon, you drink like a life, they say you're an immortal.

He said,"The Son of Heaven calls you not to board the ship, and you claim to be a god in wine."

When you smile wearily, they say:

"Look, he's drunk again!"

You looked at me and whispered: I'm not drunk anymore

And yet you're confused.

"I'm just a mortal."

Yes, when you worship on the steps of the throne room

When I look up and see the emperor at the end of the steps

And suddenly I understood the look in your eyes.

and luckily

Between the green cliffs, there is also a white deer that can fly.

waiting for you

You ride it all over the world, come back to me

You fondly stroked my fur:

"How much I resemble you."

You said to me calmly, one cup is enough

You said it's lucky this isn't Mengpo soup, I still can't let go of this world

In this stormy world

You are in the eyes of others who wonder, think, and play

18 beats of Hu Jia

Startle the drums from the night to the dawn

All the pretentious youth and arrogance have been blown away by Hu Feng

In court, you kneel at the feet of the prime minister of the Han family and cry

Cry till you're heartbroken, but you're still beautiful.

So far, no longer without branches to rely on

You lift me up to the sunset, pour me into your mouth

Until there's not a drop left, your face is as beautiful as ever

You said to me,"how much I look like you."

You sip it, sip it, sip it.

Rough lips brush my soft fur, you smile

You look at me, your eyes deep and clear

I look at you nervously

Would you mind my weird fur?

You didn't answer, but your eyes were darker.

In that numb world, you raised your arms and shouted

In that sick world, you picked up a pen.

You write line after line

sharp pen

I sighed and looked at you, maybe

Do you know there's nothing you can do about it?

Even though you pressed the New Youth button and said it was in vain

But eventually you said,"Let's shout a few cheers."

You shake the people in the iron room, wake them up

You must also struggle to get out towards the dawn

You have to give hope to those young people who focus on the horizon.

I look at you with reverence

You're still smiling.

"How much you look like me."

I looked up in amazement to see you pick up the same tightly furred spoon

stared at

"Maybe it's more like me than I am now."

You strode away.

Leaving behind turbulent undercurrents and wet crags

You stare at the cup full of red as if you were watching your faith.

I know

The court sentences you to death for insulting God and corrupting the minds of youth.

You, son of the sculptor, refuse to flee.

You say that the trees outside the city and the people inside are your friends.

You say you are a gadfly, biting to give strength to your city

And in my eyes, you are a wise man who distinguishes self from nature.

So, before you drink the poison, accept my compliments.

My fur is to wrap the biggest ear of wheat that meets me in my life

Let me, following your rules, deliver thoughts.

In the wheat field that branch upward wheat awn ah,

How much like me.

You drink your faith down, and then

Sitting at the end of the wheat field

And you, with a paintbrush in one hand and me in the other

"You're a wonderful work of art."

I held my breath excitedly, but I caught a glimpse of your left ear

The wound, what are you

How much light and hope is left, maybe the whole world?

Are they listening to your footsteps when you leave?

"Everything can be furred."

You said what Picasso said.

What would it be like if Oppenheimer met you one day?

I can't tell you I'm from the future.

I can't let you see me before I put on fur.

It was a flawless, translucent me.

That's you when you paint.

You staring at lavender and sunflower

In the cafe at night, in the starry night, in the wheat field where crows flock

I wish I could tell you

How much I look like you, and

how lucky you are

In this ordinary and magical world.

No one has ever seen me.

But everyone will see me.

When countless generations have passed

People will drink up the wine I gave them.

Some people drink it down and click.

Some people taste it with tears in their eyes

What they see in clear reflections is not my future.

It's about their own past.

Maybe everyone already knows, so they say

"How much I look like you, how much you look like me."

I am a coffee cup with fur on it.

There's a furry spoon in the cup.

I'm standing on a fur plate

Full of wine, waiting for you

into a fur-clad coffee cup.

Fill it up with your favorite drink. Here's to you.

Under the rising sun, to you