The cold forced the Qing dynasty to worship, and there was a banquet. Stay in the heart, so as to comfort the Chinese feelings.

2. Laba-(Qing) Xia Renhu

Laba cooks a lot of porridge, and the minister sent a special mission to Yonghe. Kindness is also the Buddha of today, and it is the second pot to be served.

3, "The Rose Before Wax"-Yang Wanli. 　

It is only said that flowers are not red for ten days, and this flower is not spring breeze every day. One tip has been stripped of rouge pen, and four pieces are wrapped in jade velvet.

It is more fragrant than peaches and plums, but it is also in the plum blossom snow cream. Happy New Year, forget that this morning is winter.

4. Walking to the West Village on December 8th-(Song) Lu You

The wind and the meaning of the twelfth lunar month have been in spring, and when it is scattered, it has passed my neighbor. In the desert Chai Men, there are many cattle trails and wild waterfront.

The only thing that is needed for many diseases is medicine, and the poor subjects are idle people. At present, Buddhism and porridge feed each other, which makes Jiangcun more frugal.

5, "La Ba Shui Cao An Is a Thing"-(Qing) Gu sleepwalking

The blood at the edge of Qingshui pond is phosphorus, and the horse outside Zhengyangmen is dust. Only should Shui Yue have no new hatred, and be happy that Yunshan has come to an old friend.

Fine wax is not as good as it is today, and leisure is the same as rebirth. Self-injury, white hair, wandering, a petal of incense, tears and a towel.

6. La Night in Guizhou-Rong Yu

On new year's eve, shou sui stayed up until the third watch, the way to return to the country is long way narrow. The snow was whispering to the bamboo grove, and the dream came back to the house.

The dawn of the horn replaces the night style leaky surface acoustic, the light will burn out the broken core flowers. These two years left home to follow the biaoqi, the hard work of suimu still stranded in the world.

7, "Snow is Wei Boliang's Poetry on the Eighth Day of Laba"-Yu Ji (Yuan)

Snow flies outside the willow of Guanqiao, and the orchestral strings are urgent before the guest house. Monk porridge and dawn will shock the twelfth day, and hunting around the morning will remind you of the old age.

The white head is long and the green hill is right. Who cares for Cui Dai in the fine house? Only Han Mei can be the boss, and she will be beautiful to Jiang Tian alone.