Poems describing the loneliness in autumn are as follows:
1. The autumn wind is bleak and the weather is cool, and the vegetation is exposed to frost, and the flock of geese leave for the south. I miss you and your guests, and I feel heartbroken. I miss my hometown, so why should stay for a long time send it to the other party?
2. a slip of the moon hangs over the capital, ten thousand washing-mallets are pounding. The autumn wind blows the sound of Daoyi, every family remembers the people who guard the frontier.
3. Sauvignon Blanc, in Chang 'an. Insects hum of autumn by the gold brim of the well, a thin frost glistens like little mirrors on my cold mat. The high lantern flickers; and deeper grows my longing, I lift the shade and, with many a sigh, gaze upon the moon.
4. cicadas in the west land sing, and visitors in the south crown think deeply. I can't bear the shadow on my temples, to break a white-haired prisoner's heart.
5. Break off the pedestrian in by the first call of autumn from a wildgoose at the border. Dew changes to frost since tonight, how much brighter the moonlight is at home!
6. a cold wind blows from the far sky, what are you thinking of, old friend?. The wild geese never answer me, rivers and lakes are flooded with rain.
7. a ruined city-wall overtops an old ferry, autumn sunset floods the peaks.
8. and tonight in the chilling sunset-wind, a cicada, singing, weighs on my heart.
9. the ancient terrace is old is homesick in autumn.
1. and as raindrops brighten yellow leaves, the lamp illumines my white head.
11, and here on the Huai, by one falling leaf, consciously Dongting wave.
12. now yellow leaves are shaken with a gale, yet piping and fiddling keep the Blue Houses merry.
13. the limp-hanging leaves of a foreign tree, a lantern's cold gleam, lonely in the night.
14. and the crying of the wildgeese grieves my sad heart, bounded by a gloom of cloudy mountains.
15. on the river between green maples an autumn sail grows dim, there are only a few old trees by the wall of the White God City.
16. leaves are dropping down like the spray of a waterfall, while I watch the long river always rolling on.
17. I hear the lonely notes of a bugle sounding through the dark, the moon is in mid-heaven, but there's no one to share it with me.
18. over the moon-edged river come wildgeese from the Tartars, and the thinner the leaves along the Huai, the wider the southern mountains.
19. can I trace your footprint in the autumn grass, or only slanting sunlight through the bleak woods?.