The door faces the crane creek, and the cloud meets the home of Yanxian.
Who knows people's affair? I'm used to seeing mountains, rivers, birds and flowers.
The Summer Scenery of Tang Li Bai
The bamboo pole sleeps and the water pavilion is wild.
Outside the curtain, the wind and smoke curled up, and the trees in front of the court sang.
Autumn scenery by Tang Li Bai
Last night, the west wind suddenly turned and I was surprised to see wild geese crossing the forest.
Poetry is just static, rhyme is cold.
Winter Scenery by Tang Li Bai
A frozen pen is lazy to write new poems, and a cold stove is warm to drink wine.
Drunk to see the ink flowers and the moon white, suddenly suspicious of the snow in the former village.