"The Confession of the Zhuang"

Gently I come, just as I gently go,

In the shimmering red and green, I am that invisible hand.

I wave my sleeve, casting a dark net,

In your dreams, I am that hand that catches dreams.

The rise and fall of the K-line is the poem of trading;

The strategies in the shimmering light ripple in my heart.

The footprints on the chain silently beckon to you;

In the gentle waves of the market, I willingly become a submerged water plant!

The truth or falsity of news is not gossip, it is the rainbow that draws you in,

Crushed in the midst of rumors, settling the dream of profit.

Seeking dreams? Hold up a bullish line, reaching for a higher cliff,

Loaded with a boat of starlight, landing amidst the dazzling starlight.

But I cannot sing, quietly is the flute of trading;

Gas also remains silent for me, silence is the result of greed.

Quietly I leave, just as I quietly came;

I wave my sleeve, taking nothing but a counterfeit coin.