The reeds are sparse, the weather is clear, the water contains mountains and the scenery illuminates the city. Where is the green bow of the orchestra, the old clock and drums are beating in the blue sky. The autumn rain passes by the Three Gorges Bridge, and the night tide rises in Liu'ao Palace. Xiao Lang and Qin Nu have not returned to their promise, and the moon shines brightly in the sky above the Twelve Yaotai.
Other poems about the ancient city: The green lanterns and old folded umbrellas in the ancient city are warm and affectionate at both ends of the covered bridge. The dream of looking for a solitary flute is misty with snow, who sighs that the red damask will be safe for the rest of my life.
The water flows in two directions, and there are hundreds of small bridges. The tea and horses are far away on the old road, and the ancient willows are in the new year.
The ancient city of Chang'an is filled with flowers and rain, and meeting you here is like a dream. They are draped in phoenix crowns and harems, and two people are lying in a soft red gauze tent. Yingge and Yanyu are heard in my ears, and my clothes are rustling on the ground. The war drums are beating loudly as they head towards Jingshan Mountain, and the distant men are watching from a distance to gather the spectators.