The catkins are flying around the green trees, and the spring rolls are coming.

The peach blossoms are scorching, the setting sun is setting, the rain is sparse at dusk, and countless reds have fallen. I am holding the incense and being speechless. Who can express my thoughts?

Last year, the spring scenery was fleeting, and the houses under the trees were connected to each other. The beautiful lady was silent and watched secretly, and the young master had no idea of ??a seven-character poem.

Fangxin acquiesced, so she wrote the word "love".

I don’t realize the benefits of a year of spring. When I have time to ride on the spring road, the peach blossoms are still there, the red doors are empty, and the faces of people don’t know where they are going.

I have black hair and white hair, and my poems are flowing freely. I hold a long sword and ride a horse to the end of the world. I am allowed to travel around the world and look down on the world; red walls and black tiles, rich families in their youth, Luo Qi's rooms full of hairpins, under the lamp, I am alone in the courtyards and pavilions holding scrolls and lamenting the prosperity; three thousand

Moonlight, three strokes of Jian Jia, classic poems on rice paper, mandarin ducks and yellow sand, heavy mountains and deep waters leave me speechless when I pick up the pen to write; butterflies play with peach blossoms, peach blossoms are shy, frost and dew are heavy in the garden, Xiao Sa, flying catkins and gauze are with me at this time

Infinite haze; the orioles are singing and the willows are dark, the flute is disappearing and the piano is in chaos, the mountains are rugged and the tea is cool and people are scattered, the storm is about to come, leaving me holding an umbrella and hobbling alone; red clouds and redwoods, yellow grass fading in the sky, dim wandering and lonely copywriting, the journey is elusive and I write about Yunshan

White clothes pass by; the world is long, people's hearts are light, pinellia flowers are blooming, autumn leaves are rotting, the book and paper are sad, I feel sorry for me when I was young and didn't know how to read them; the water moon cave sky, the picture scroll of mountains and rivers, Li Ci is worn with three thousand glazed glasses, the Spring and Autumn Book Mountain allows me to scatter the light of night

; On the edge of the cold mountain, there are cicadas in the swamp, and there are pines and cypresses on the bank of tall willows. I read this poem in a small note, so I have no sleep at night. When Zi Jin was in his prime, his eyes were filled with fire, and he was attached to him for the rest of his life. I traveled through time and space and returned to the world.

In his previous life, his clothes were so elegant, his long sleeves were good at dancing deep into the palace, his family had deep love, and his smile was calm, but he only spent half his life.

Drunk, Liu Ling went crazy, the Poet Fairy publicized it, Cao Mengde wrote about Hongmen Banquet, Wet Qingming, Apricot Blossom Rain made Begonia thin, Li Yi'an helped Wu Song kill the tiger with three punches on the hill in Jingyang, Xunyang Tower, Song Jiang wrote a poem to rebel against you, how many heroes have you made possible

How many villagers have been brought down by the hero? The rough man sings and dances with you. Your beauty and beauty are by your side to inspire poetry and poetry. Some men of letters are bold. Some people use you to go crazy. Some people use you to seize power. Sometimes you are just a prop to heighten the atmosphere at the negotiation table. Sometimes you are more like one.

Plant a hidden weapon to overwhelm your rivals who are greedy for drinking. You have entered both wealthy mansions and cottages. The golden bottles of the royal family are overflowing and the coarse bowls of the peasants are filled. I want you to be happy. I also want you to jump over the dragon gate. The students migrate to the exiled prisoners.

The down-and-out literati and the successful court officials are all your confidants and your companions. Flying with catkins and willows all over the city, watching a scene of jade falling into pieces.

The Qingming rain is chaotic, the long street is dark for hundreds of steps, the soul is about to break, the black hair is difficult to recover, looking back is the river of forgetfulness.

They stand alone, looking at each other.

There are hundreds of embroidered households in Zhumen.

Beside the moon bridge, there are green willows and red gates, the broken corners of the broken bridge, and the evening is coming again, things on my mind, tears in my eyes, the person I love?

I am the catkins floating in March. I fly over the deep courtyard of Zhumen and pass by the long-distance Suzhou and Hangzhou. The seven-point setting sun is the poetry of sunset. You are the breathtaking stroke in this poetry. The wind stops, and I fall on your soft fingertips.

When the wind blows, I am far away from your gentle sight and have no time to miss you. It is a beautiful accident.

Who painted half of the country, who wrote the romance.

Who opened the smoke willow scrolls, who knocked on the curtain of the red door.

Who wears the green shirt, who puts on the heavy makeup.

Who is singing softly about the remaining snow on the broken bridge, and who is sighing about the lonely smoke in the north of the Great Wall.

Who has a beautiful city on the street, and who has no sleep under the moon?

Whoever treats a long song as crying will be intoxicated in his life.

Who turns around and looks back on the Naihe Bridge, and who stays by the Huangquan River all his life.

Who carved a faint reincarnation on the Sansheng Stone, and whose story flows through the shadows of time thousands of times.

Who used plain paper and inkstone to write down half a page of Li Chou.

Who and whom are scattered in the wind and smoke of midsummer.

Who can rewrite the memory picture?

She often stood in the courtyard where she lived after dusk, admiring the spring orchids and autumn chrysanthemums in the garden, but her eyes would drift out of the screen wall from time to time, as if looking for someone's figure.

Often we stand like this for a long time, until the moon rises above the willow branches, and the hope in our eyes gradually burns out.

----"Rou Fu Di Ji" On the contrary, in the poems of those poets who live a poor life, have a low status or have an unfortunate life experience, such as Liu Xiyi, Cui Shu, Zhou He and Han Shan, there are very few poems about the rich wine and meat smell, the road

There are sentences like "frozen to death".

Because they may have never smelled the smell of Zhumen’s wine and meat; and when they were really cold and hungry, they probably couldn’t still be in the mood to write poems. They could only live in troubled times, secretly having fun and venting their anger when they took a break.

A bit of personal boredom.

----Zhong Shuhe's "Study of Nianlou" Every cloud in the hall has been favored for a long time by the golden cage. The mountain is sincere and has the intention to bear with the Lord. He is speechless and frustrated. He is as clean as a lonely Luan. His voice is as clear as a hundred tongues. The clouds and the forest are like one. I should be happy to thank the rich family----Fan Zhongyan

"Parrot" Cinderella's pumpkin carriage was delayed and failed to catch up with the prince's ball. Pinocchio turned into a man and kept telling lies, but his nose stopped growing. Snow White was poisoned and fell asleep year after year. The dwarfs died one after another, but the prince did not.

Arrive as scheduled. If one day your blood and sweat fail to exchange for a house and bread, you will only be ridiculed and ridiculed. The roads are freezing and your bones are cold. What will happen if one day there is smoke everywhere? The former hometown is filled with death, and despair is hoarse.

Your cries are united, what will happen if one day God is not by your side, angels are not singing in your ears, the devil breaks out of the cage, the hero escapes you, what will happen if one day fairy tales are no longer fairy tales, the world is no longer the world, hope is gone

As expected, disappointments come one after another. Young man, if you think about it carefully, how will you search for him thousands of times in the crowd, and suddenly look back, and that person is there in the dim light.

I recall those days when the streets were filled with cars like flowing water and horses like swimming dragons.

Outside the Zhumen, in the mist and rain, I met a beautiful woman by chance and had a look that lasted forever.