Poetry about the image of the moon

There is moonlight in Chang 'an, and all the families in Yi Dao are there.

The slender crescent moon hangs in the dusk, which makes people want to die in a quiet boudoir. The moon curtain was only a few feet away, and the black magpie was shocked and white. The cold moon is sad, and the west wind is boundless in Wan Li.

On the pipa string, I said I was homesick. At that time, the moon was there, and I had come back according to the colorful clouds. The sun is full of lust, and the moon is bright and sleepless. I only see the clouds rising from the sea every night, and who knows the clouds in the morning? It was a clear autumn and a half-cool night, and I watched Jinbo shine on the flour mill.