Looking at a river, geese sound sad; This is a cool month, and the figure is uneven.
After waking up, tears are like phoenix wax, and the wind curtain rolls gold mud.
The anvil has a high rhyme, calling back the residual dream; The fragrance of Luo decreased, which led to sadness.
The pavilion is divided into two parts, which is difficult to spell. Covering your face and guiding your clothes is biased.
Besides, I'll never see you again.
Want to send hate books, silver hooks are empty; Heartbroken sound, the jade is still hanging.
How many secrets are hidden, only God knows.
The maple forest is red and green, and the guests are full of gulls.
In the past twenty years, homeless people have planted bamboo, and bamboo is still named after it.
The spring breeze hasn't arrived yet, and the autumn wind has come.
I only wrote my life as a song.
Maple is red and smoke is green at dusk. Every day, we are faced with the gulls in Tingzhou, a water town that lives and works in peace and contentment, full of exile and sadness everywhere. I love bamboo, and I have been wandering for 20 years, borrowing the name of bamboo.
The spring breeze has not yet blown out, the autumn wind has arrived, I am old, and I despise all dust. I just made my life experience into the songs of boatmen and fishermen.