“Thousands of volumes of books are read, words and deeds are elegant, and friendship is deep after three rounds of wine.” In the vast sea of ????people, if you find a confidant who knows yourself and the enemy, and a beautiful woman, this life will be enough.
There are more than a hundred kinds of emotions in this world, and the secular world is like a thousand-year-old wine. How can the voice of the heart be given a hundred flavors? It can be lamented that "Xiaoyin sheds all the tears of separation, the rhyme of the flute sheds the emotions of farewell, the ink poems gather elegance among the flowers and become a good story, and the hollow in the bamboo leaves becomes a lonely person." After three glasses of wine, I found that I had none, and I also found a few notes of ink poems. No beauty appears. I watched the bird's tongue cook out the taste of the mortal world, the painful words of the wild goose were saddened by the mundane world, and I flicked the waning moon under my finger, and I drank the intoxicating wine from the cup. The world does not tolerate close friends, and a beautiful woman is rare in the mortal world. My heart is empty and lonely, and I want to get rid of it. I hold wine and ink and wish to have someone to accompany me. I have been in love for many years, and the breeze blows through my world of mortals.
The sound of the piano invites the bright moon, and a few drunken notes express one's inner feelings. No one understands the vast world, only the bright moon and the breeze. Who can appreciate a wisp of spring fragrance? Only Mo knows the sorrow of half a life. The fallen flowers are like passing water. I lie drunk among the flowers and sing about the years. Leaning against the window and listening to the rain at night with resentment, the fallen flowers still smile at the soul of the lonely mountain. If the sound of a wooden fish can break the resentment of the world, how can the sound of bells and drums hurt the sorrow of the world. If there is no beautiful woman to accompany you in Nanke's dream, in the dream he will be contented with the wind and clouds. The sparse bamboos in the cold window will carry the wind news, and the only shadows will be seen under the solitary lamp at night!
Autumn rain makes me sad and hard to dream, I want to find a close friend and my heart is intoxicated. Late autumn rain sends broken flowers to fall. Broken strings collect the rain's dull rhyme. I use the autumn night rain to turn it into ink. I turn the wine into melancholy and drunken the wind and rain. The breeze blows to welcome the silk rain. , I sigh sadly on a rainy night. No one is looking for her, no one is asking, she is pointing at the drunken stars and counting the stars. She is not looking for a confidant or a beauty, she is just looking for a drunken time without regrets.
Wandering in the clouds, I don’t know where I’m going, the wind and rain are freely falling under the wolf’s hair, don’t ask how late spring will be in the clouds, and let my sorrow go out of my dreams. Stop the boat and get drunk and watch the clouds fly away. Sprinkle ink on the south of the Yangtze River to describe a spring. The past events are as pale as clouds. The ink and wash poems are just a note of love. If there are no good sentences to write about the bright moon, I would like to be drunk by the breeze.
I haven’t seen the secluded place in the world of mortals. The wind shakes the shadows, and my heart hides my sorrow. The rain hits the bead curtain and the guest’s dream has not stopped. It is difficult to write a sentence regardless of the wind and moon. If I could walk drunkenly in a peach garden and invite butterflies to dance, watch orioles flying in a pure bamboo garden, write down my pen full of melancholy, and finish the paper with a few scenes of emotions. I don’t think I would hold up a lamp to find a confidant or sit under a flower to find a beauty...
A few notes of heroic spirit follow the mood, but a good intention is wasted. The seven-string brocade harp intoxicates the remaining flowers, the broken willows urge the flowers to be capricious, the falling red hates the rainy night and makes my heart feel cold. As soon as the proud snow drifts away, the lonely Hong's farewell thoughts follow the ink.