Lin'an Man
As spring ends and summer begins, I reread Jiaxuan, Yi An, Baishi and other poets of the later Song Dynasty at home. Feeling the sadness of their separation, I still feel like I am a poet for Jiaxuan. Xuan's heroic struggle was reflected in his heart. I would like to use my clumsy writing to try to describe Jiaxuan's state of mind twenty years after he went south, expressing the sorrow of his lofty ideals.
It was the Gengwu month of Jichou year
Back then, I remembered the green apricot and yellow, Luo Shang was frivolous and faded from the wind and frost.
The orchid boat floats alone in the flat lake, and the dusk clouds merge with the wall and the gulls are dotted.
The flying pen strokes the smiling eyebrows, and the burning incense plays the clouds.
When I was young, I didn’t understand the suffering of the world, so I wrote new words about the cold weather.
Half-hand colored shirt caresses her face softly, and a touch of green silk wraps around her fingers to fragrant fragrance.
The small boat is reflected in the mirror and the clear sky is long, and the people are like delicate flowers reflected in the green window.
The green stockings on the feet do not attract dust, and the wind-mooned face has no makeup.
The Liuhua boat is full of flowers, and the flowers are full of flowers, and the mulberry trees are picked.
Peach wind, blood, rain, rouge and tears, drying the beauty's face.
The air-conditioning beaded with pearls makes it unbearable to go south on the dragon boat.
Last night there was light smoke at the fifth watch, and the old fish sending out cold incense when treading water.
Lin'an is filled with mist and rain, and the war in Tokyo is not over yet.
Ten years of life and death are so vast that they are unforgettable even if you don’t think about them.
The jade bones and ice muscles naturally have no sweat, and the scarlet silk and silk scarves are cut into jade frost.
The red patch has not been swept away, and the long-sleeved clothes are dancing all night.
The small pavilion is empty with old red treads, and the golden beast is tired of smelling the new female fragrance.
At night, I lie down and listen to the lone star talking, with a candle in the dim light.
A figure follows the dust ghost, and every day there is plenty of soup.
The sinking waist and the pantyhose fade away, but this feeling will never be forgotten.
I am so far apart from the earthly world, I hate that it is difficult to talk about the world and heaven.
The beloved man sings his sad song in the west tower, and the beauty is heartbroken under the flowery moon.
Last night, the parasol trees shed a miserable rain, and the banana leaves warmed the quiet bed.
The strings and lyrics are long, and the thrushes are long, just as usual, morning and evening.
In those days when the spring scenery was full of fresh green, how could we ever realize that people are impermanent?
Now it seems like I am feeling sad, and no one is around to sing with me.
No matter how much I hate the beauty of the willow petting the beautiful girl,
I can’t stand it and feel a little melancholy when I complain.
I don’t remember staying in spring, only the locked windows and red doors remain the same.
The scholar has gray hair in sorrow, and the east wind has ignored all the flowers in the river for twenty years.
In the spare time of the Northern Kingdom, Wu Hui’s children are placed in the carriage like a bride.
The beautiful woman was trapped by the barbarians, and Wu Ce couldn't bear to exchange the tree-planting book for his employer.
The protagonist of this poem is Xin Qiji.
Describes his mood after crossing south