The scenery in the countryside is a beautiful picture. Their customs are very different from ours. Their customs have their own characteristics. Let me tell you something about the countryside I saw!
When I was eight years old, I went to an ancient village with my grandparents. It was not only a village but also a tourist attraction. Many people either watched the scenery there or painted there, painted there or recorded the beautiful scenery here! Rural houses are very remote, similar to ancient rural houses. Every household has a small ditch, which flows at any time. He is the artery of these houses. The willows there are also very attractive. Look at the long weeping willows, which are really like the braids of willow girls, so tender and smooth! It's beautiful with pink and white lotus flowers. From time to time, a few dragonflies landed on the lotus. Suddenly, this scene reminded me of a poem, in which there is such a sentence: "Excellent talents show sharp corners, and dragonflies stand on the top."
ah! I seem to be intoxicated in this beautiful country. It's really: "The boat is sailing on the blue waves and people are in Traveling in a pictorial world"!
qingpingle village residence
song Xin qiji
the eaves of the grass are low and small,
the grass is green on the stream.
When you are drunk, Wu Yin and Xiang Mei are good,
When you are white-haired, you will never be happy.
Big son hoes the east of Douxi,
Middle son is weaving a chicken coop;
I like children's rogues best,
I lie on my head and peel the lotus
I visit Shanxi Village
I travel in Song Dynasty and Lu Dynasty
I don't laugh at the peasant's wine and wine, and
I keep enough chickens and dolphins in good years.
There is no way for mountains and rivers to return to doubt,
There is another village with a bright future.
Tian Jiaxing
Author: Wang Jian
Yan Yue, a male voice, people don't complain about words.
In May, although the wheat was hot and the wind was clear, the eaves screamed.
the wild silkworm is not taken as a cocoon, and the autumn moth is born among the leaves.
when the wheat is harvested, the silk is on the axis, and the knowledge is lost.
don't look at the entrance to restore your upper body, and don't sell yellow calves to the city.
Tian's family is well fed and clothed, so it's a pleasure not to see the county gate!
Zhang Ji of wild old songs
The old farmer lives in the mountains and cultivates three or four acres of mountains and fields.
You can't eat much of the seedling tax. If you enter the official warehouse, it will be turned into soil.
at the end of the year, hoe and plow the empty room, and shout to climb the mountain to collect acorns.
Xijiang Jiake beads a hundred hugs, raising dogs in the boat and eating meat.
Nie Yizhong's wounded family
sells new silk in February,
mows new grain in May.
cure the sore in front of your eyes, but
gouge out your heart.
I wish the king's heart
turned into a bright candle.
not according to the Kirara banquet,
according to the escape room.
Guantian Author: Wei Yingwu
After a light rain, many flowers are new, and a thunder begins to sting.
Tian Jia has a few days off, so farming begins.
ding Zhuang is in the wild, so the nursery is reasonable.
when you come back, you will have a quiet time and drink the water from the west stream.
hunger is not self-suffering, but it is pleasing to the eye.
there is no shelter in the warehouse, and the corvee is not finished yet.
if you are ashamed of not plowing, you will reap the rewards.
The widow in the mountain
Tang Du Xunhe
Her husband clung to Pengmao because of the soldiers, and her clothes were burnt.
mulberry leaves come to Judah to pay taxes, and the rural shortage is still seeking seedlings.
when picking wild vegetables and roots, cook them, and stir-fry raw leaves of firewood.
if you are deeper in the mountains, you should also have no plan to avoid the levy.
a Farm-house on the Wei River Wang Wei
in the slant of the sun on the country-side, cattle and sheep trail home along the lane.
and a rugged old man in a thatch door, leans on a staff and thinks of his son, the herdboy.
pheasant and wheat seedling show, silk-worms asleep, pared mulberry-leaves.
Hojo, Fu Tian, hail one another familiarly.
no wonder I long for the simple life, and am sighing the old song, Oh, to go Back Again!.
pastoral Wang Wei in spring
In the house, spring doves are singing, and apricot blossoms are white by the trees.
hold the axe to cut down the poplar, and the lotus hoe the spring vein.
when I return to Yan, I know my old nest, and the old people look at the new calendar.
I'm afraid that I'm not at home, and I'm disappointed that I'm a traveler.
passing my old friend Zhuang Meng Haoran
preparing me chicken and rice, old friend, you entertain me at your farm.
we watch the green trees that circle your village, and the pale blue of outlying mountains.
we open your window over garden and field, to talk mulberry and hemp with our cups in our hands.
wait till the Mountain Holiday, I am coming again in chrysanthemum time.
Yan Xing Du Fu at the age of
At the age of dusk, there are many north winds, and in the snow in Xiaoxiang Dongting. The fisherman's net is frozen in the cold,
Don't shoot the wild goose singing mulberry bow. Last year, rice was scarce for the army, and this year, rice was cheap and hurt farmers.
high motor officials hate wine and meat, and this generation is afraid of nothing. The Chu people value fish more than birds.
You should kill Nan Feihong in vain. I heard that men and women are everywhere, and cutting kindness and forbearance is also a matter of renting.
In the past, money was used to catch private castings, but now there are lead, tin and bronze. Carving mud is the easiest thing to get,
likes and dislikes don't match looks. When will this song's sorrow end?
sing a song, Wen tingyun
get up and look at Nanshan, where mountains burn mountains and fields. The reddish evening is extinguished, and the short flame is connected again.
Differential rocks, Lingqingbi, Ran Ran. Low with the return air, far as the eaves are red.
a neighbor can talk, but he wants to die. It is said that Chu is more vulgar, and she is burned as an early field.
bean sprouts and insects promote growth, and flowers on the fence are the house. The abandoned stack is returned to the column, and the square chicken pecks the millet.
the spring rain is fine in the new year, and the gods are playing everywhere. People who hold money are divining, knocking on the tiles to separate the forest.
Bude divined on the mountain, and returned to the mulberry date. Blow the fire to the imperata, and the waist sickle reflects the cane.
the wind drives the mistletoe smoke, and the mistletoe trees connect the hills. The stars burst out of the sky, and the flying embers fell down the steps.
groan and sneeze on your back, and the crow mother will curse you for being rich. Who knows, lush, do official tax.
returning to the countryside
Tao Yuanming in Wei and Jin Dynasties
There are few people in the wild, and there are few people in the poor lanes. The day is still chai men closed, the pure heart to cut off vulgar thinking.
in the music of the time-revival market, pulling weeds * * * comes and goes. Meet not to talk about the worldly affairs, only say the garden sang ma grows.
the days in Sang Ma are long, and the days in our country are wide. Often worry about the frost suddenly, the crops wither like the bush.
returning to the garden
Tao Yuanming in Wei and Jin Dynasties
There is little rhyme, and he loves Qiushan in nature. I slipped into the official career net, and has been away from the field for more than ten years.
a captive bird is nostalgic for the old forest, and a fish in the pond misses its source. Open up wasteland in the south and return to the countryside.
there are more than ten acres of square houses and eight or nine grass houses. The elm tree is in the back of Liu Yin and in front of Taoli Luotang.
it's warm and distant, and there's smoke in yiyi market. A few dogs barked in the lane, and the mulberry tree was called with a cock.
there is no dust and clutter in the household, and there is leisure in the virtual room. Long trapped in a cage without freedom, I finally return to the forest today.
pastoral talk
Tang Li Bai
Jia Yi was banished for three years, Wan Li, Ban Chao.
how to lead a white calf, drinking water is good for clean water.
pastoral work
Tang Menghao-ran
It's bad to keep the house apart from the dust, but to nurture the elements first. Bu is close to the three paths, and there are thousands of trees planted.
I have been moved from Guangdong, but I haven't met anyone since I was 31. It will be late when the sword is written, and the day of Qiuyuan is already dusk.
I am pregnant in the morning, but I am often ignorant when I sit in the day. The sky is full of envy, competing for food and shame.
Look at the Golden Horse Gate, and take the road of firewood. There is no confidant in rural songs, and there is no relatives and friends at the end.
who can recommend Ganquan Fu for Yang Xiong?
pastoral work in spring
Tang Wangwei
Spring doves are singing on the house, and apricot blossoms are white on the edge of the village. Hold an axe to cut far and wide, and the lotus hoe the spring vein.
when I return to Yan, I know my old nest, and the old people look at the new calendar. When you are in a hurry, you will not be royal, and you will travel far away.
it's a matter of going to the countryside
Tang Wangwei
He lives on the water of Qi, and there are no mountains in the east. The sun is hidden outside the mulberry tree, and the river is clear between the wells.
the shepherd boy looks to the village, and the hounds return with the people. What's the matter with the quiet? Jingfei takes the day off.
autumn rain is a pastoral thing
Tang Gengkun
The desert is heavy with clouds and dark, and the rain is drizzling. For the ancient road flooded by Lin, it is full of wasteland.
when the five crops are harvested, several households in the isolated village cook. Turbulence spreads through the nursery, and rotten leaves write autumn branches.
the new firewood is wet at dusk, and the old fishing moves in the morning. Last year, chrysanthemums bloomed in Dongli.
the four seasons are full of pastoral excitement
Fan Chengda in Song Dynasty
Plums are golden and apricots are fat, and wheat flowers are white and cauliflower is rare.
no one has ever crossed the long fence, only dragonflies and butterflies fly.
the four seasons are full of pastoral excitement
Fan Chengda in Song Dynasty
The blackbirds throw themselves into the forest, and the tourists are scarce, and the smoke in the front mountains reaches Chai Fei.
the little boy paddled like a leaf, weaving a duck array to return home alone.
the four seasons are full of pastoral excitement
Fan Chengda, Song Dynasty
The mud mirror of the newly-built farm is flat, and every family plays rice while the frost is fine.
The laughter sounded like thunder, and the flail sounded bright all night.
the four seasons are full of idyllic excitement
Fan Chengda in Song Dynasty
The children in the village are in charge of their own affairs.
children and grandchildren are not ready for farming and weaving, but also learn to grow melons by mulberry shade.
Wang Wei's pastoral poem
Luchai: there seems to be no one on the empty mountain, but it's very popular. The shadow of the setting sun came into deep forest, and the landscape was pleasant on the moss.
Xinyiwu: hibiscus flowers with minced wood and red calyx in the mountains. There are no people in the stream, and they have started to fall.
Autumn in a Mountain Residence: after rain the empty mountain, stands autumnal in the evening. The bright moon sprinkled the clear light from the gap, clearing the fountain on the rocks. The bamboo forest is loud and clear, the laundry girl comes back, the lotus leaf jiggle want to go up and down the canoe. The spring of spring may wish to let it rest, in autumn the hills of the sun can stay long.
In Birding Stream, people are idle and sweet-scented osmanthus falls, and the night is quiet and the mountains are empty. When the moon comes out, it surprises the mountain birds, and when it sounds in the spring stream.
a Farm-house on the Wei River: in the slant of the sun on the country-side, cattle and sheep trail home along the lane. And a rugged old man in a thatch door, leans on a staff and thinks of his son, the herdboy. There are whirring pheasants? full wheat-ears, silk-worms asleep, pared mulberry-leaves. Hojo, Fu Tian, hail one another familiarly. No wonder I long for the simple life, disappointed songs are fading.
Traveling to Shanxi Village [Song Dynasty] and traveling to the land
Don't laugh at the peasant's wine and wine, and
Keep enough chickens and dolphins in good years.
There is no way for mountains and rivers to return to doubt,
There is another village with a bright future.
Zhang Ji of wild old songs
The old farmer lives in the mountains and cultivates three or four acres of mountains and fields.
You can't eat much of the seedling tax. If you enter the official warehouse, it will be turned into soil.
at the end of the year, hoe and plow the empty room, and shout to climb the mountain to collect acorns.
Xijiang Jiake beads a hundred hugs, raising dogs in the boat and eating meat.
pastoral Wang Wei in spring
In the house, spring doves are singing, and apricot blossoms are white by the trees.
hold the axe to cut down the poplar, and the lotus hoe the spring vein.
when I return to Yan, I know my old nest, and the old people look at the new calendar.
I'm afraid that I'm not at home, and I'm disappointed that I'm a traveler.
Traveling to Shanxi Village [Song Dynasty] and traveling to the land
Don't laugh at the peasant's wine and wine, and
Keep enough chickens and dolphins in good years.
There is no way for mountains and rivers to return to doubt,
There is another village with a bright future.
bound home to mount song
the limpid river, past its bushes, running slowly as my chariot.
becomes a fellow voyager, returning home with the evening birds.
a ruined city-wall overtops an old ferry, autumn sunset floods the peaks.
far away, beside Mount Song, I shall close my door and be at peace.
Meng Haoran's
preparing me chicken and rice, old friend, you entertain me at your farm.
we watch the green trees that circle your village, and the pale blue of outlying mountains.
we open your window over garden and field, to talk mulberry and hemp with our cups in our hands.
wait till the Mountain Holiday, I am coming again in chrysanthemum time.
du fu's quatrains
beautiful scenery and flowers are fragrant in the spring breeze.
the mud melts the swallows, while the sand warms the mandarin ducks.
Du Fu's quatrains
Two orioles sing green willows, and a row of egrets go up to the sky.
The window contains autumn snow in Xiling, and the Dongwu Wan Li boat is moored at the gate.
Zhongnanshan
its massive height near the City of Heaven, joins a thousand mountains to the corner of the sea.
clouds, when I look back, close behind me, mists, when I enter them, are gone.
a central peak divides the wilds, and weather into many valleys.
needing a place to spend the night, I call to a wood-cutter over the river.
my retreat at mount zhongnan
my heart in middle age found the Way, and I came to dwell at the foot of this mountain.
when the spirit moves, I wander alone, amid beauty that is all for me.
I will walk till the water checks my path, then sit and watch the rising clouds.
and some day meet an old wood-cutter, and talk and laugh and never return.
Qingxi
I have sailed the River of Yellow Flowers, borne by the channel of a green stream.
rounding ten thousand turns through the mountains, on a journey of less than thirty miles.
rapids hum over heaped rocks, but where light grows dim in the thick pines.
the surface of an inlet sways with nut-horns, and weeds are lush along the banks.
down in my heart I have always been as pure, as this limpid water is.
oh, to remain on a broad flat rock, and to cast a fishing-line forever!.
a Farm-house on the Wei River
in the slant of the sun on the country-side, cattle and sheep trail home along the lane.
and a rugged old man in a thatch door, leans on a staff and thinks of his son, the herdboy.
pheasant [sentence] Mai Miaoxiu, silk-worms asleep, pared mulberry-leaves.
and the farmers, returning with hoes on their shoulders, hail one another familiarly.
no wonder I long for the simple life, and am sighing the old song, Oh, to go Back Again!.
Looking at the new sunny field (working late)
The new sunny Yuan Ye is vast. Extremely clean.
guomen is near the ferry. The village tree is connected with the stream mouth.
Bai shui Ming Tian wai. After Bifeng came out of the mountain.
there are no idle people in the farming month. Pour out the family's family.
Huanghuachuan
The dangerous path turns tens of thousands, and it will rest for three miles.
I see the disciples in the circle, and I see them hidden in the forest hills.
it rains softly, and flows in the gurgling stones.
in a deep stream, there is a long whistle at the top of a mountain.
when you see Nanshan Yang, the white dew is misty.
green and beautiful, green trees are floating.
I used to hate being secretive, but I was careless and worried.
Cui Puyang's elder brother is busy in the mountains before the season.
Autumn is good, and Kuang Jun is idle in the pool.
under the leisurely Xilin, you know yourself in front of the mountain.
thousands of miles across the sky, and several peaks emerge from the clouds.
cragginess to the state of Qin.
the rain is slanting and the sun is shining, and the birds in the evening are still there.
my old friend is still respected today, and I sigh with shame. Tour Shanxi Village [Song Dynasty] Lu You
Don't laugh at the peasant's wine and wine,
Stay in the good year with enough chickens and dolphins.
There is no way for mountains and rivers to return to doubt,
There is another village with a bright future.
Zhang Ji of wild old songs
The old farmer lives in the mountains and cultivates three or four acres of mountains and fields.
You can't eat much of the seedling tax. If you enter the official warehouse, it will be turned into soil.
at the end of the year, hoe and plow the empty room, and shout to climb the mountain to collect acorns.
Xijiang Jiake beads a hundred hugs, raising dogs in the boat and eating meat.
pastoral Wang Wei in spring
In the house, spring doves are singing, and apricot blossoms are white by the trees.
hold the axe to cut down the poplar, and the lotus hoe the spring vein.
when I return to Yan, I know my old nest, and the old people look at the new calendar.
I'm afraid that I'm not at home, and I'm disappointed that I'm a traveler.
Traveling to Shanxi Village [Song Dynasty] and traveling to the land
Don't laugh at the peasant's wine and wine, and
Keep enough chickens and dolphins in good years.
There is no way for mountains and rivers to return to doubt,
There is another village with a bright future.
bound home to mount song
the limpid river, past its bushes, running slowly as my chariot.
becomes a fellow voyager, returning home with the evening birds.
a ruined city-wall overtops an old ferry, autumn sunset floods the peaks.
far away, beside Mount Song, I shall close my door and be at peace.
Meng Haoran's
preparing me chicken and rice, old friend, you entertain me at your farm.
we watch the green trees that circle your village, and the pale blue of outlying mountains.
we open your window over garden and field, to talk mulberry and hemp with our cups in our hands.
wait till the Mountain Holiday, I am coming again in chrysanthemum time.
du fu's quatrains
beautiful scenery and flowers are fragrant in the spring breeze.
the mud melts the swallows, while the sand warms the mandarin ducks.
Du Fu's quatrains
Two orioles sing green willows, and a row of egrets go up to the sky.
The window contains autumn snow in Xiling, and the Dongwu Wan Li boat is moored at the gate.
Zhongnanshan
its massive height near the City of Heaven, joins a thousand mountains to the corner of the sea.
clouds, when I look back, close behind me, mists, when I enter them, are gone.
a central peak divides the wilds, and weather into many valleys.
needing a place to spend the night, I call to a wood-cutter over the river.
my retreat at mount zhongnan
my heart in middle age found the Way, and I came to dwell at the foot of this mountain.
when the spirit moves, I wander alone, amid beauty that is all for me.
I will walk till the water checks my path, then sit and watch the rising clouds.
and some day meet an old wood-cutter, and talk and laugh and never return.
Qingxi
I have sailed the River of Yellow Flowers, borne by the channel of a green stream.
rounding ten thousand turns through the mountains, on a journey of less than thirty miles.
rapids hum over heaped rocks, but where light grows dim in the thick pines.
the surface of an inlet sways with nut-horns, and weeds are lush along the banks.
down in my heart I have always been as pure, as this limpid water is.
oh, to remain on a broad flat rock, and to cast a fishing-line forever!.
a Farm-house on the Wei River
in the slant of the sun on the country-side, cattle and sheep trail home along the lane.
and a rugged old man in a thatch door, leans on a staff and thinks of his son, the herdboy.
pheasant [sentence] Mai Miaoxiu, silk-worms asleep, pared mulberry-leaves.
and the farmers, returning with hoes on their shoulders, hail one another familiarly.
no wonder I long for the simple life, and am sighing the old song, Oh, to go Back Again!.
Looking at the new sunny field (working late)
The new sunny Yuan Ye is vast. Extremely clean.
guomen is near the ferry. The village tree is connected with the stream mouth.
Bai shui Ming Tian wai. Bifengchushan