Ancient poetry is a general term for ancient China's poetry, which refers to China's poetry works before the war in 184. From the metrical point of view, ancient poetry can be divided into ancient poetry and modern poetry. Taking the Tang Dynasty as the boundary, the previous poems were all ancient poems, and then, the ancient poems gradually declined and died out. Ancient poetry is also called ancient poetry or ancient style; Modern poetry is also called modern poetry. The following is an ancient poem with wonderful scenery, please refer to it! An ancient poem with wonderful scenery: Ascending the Mountain
Du Fu (Tang)
in a sharp gale from the wide sky apes are whimpering, birds are flying homeward over the clear lake and white sand.
leaves are dropping down like the spray of a waterfall, while I watch the long river always rolling on.
I have come three thousand miles away. Sad now with autumn, and with my hundred years of woe, I climb this height alone.
ill fortune has laid a bitter frost on my temples, heart-ache and weariness are a thick dust in my wine. Chapter 2: Listening to Dong Da's Playing Hu Jia and Sending a Message to Make a Room for Things
Li Qi (Tang)
when this melody for the flageolet was made by Lady Cai, when long ago one by one she sang its eighteen stanzas.
even the Tartars were shedding tears into the border grasses, and the envoy of China was heart-broken, turning back home with his escort.
cold fires now of old battles are grey on ancient forts, the wild and gloomy sky is snowy.
blows the Shang string first and then the horn feather, autumn-leaves in all four quarters are shaken with a murmur.
master dong, knowing the gods, is deeply relaxed and eager to hear evil spirits.
to music slow, then quick, following his hand, now far away, now near again, according to his heart.
a hundred birds from an empty mountain scatter and return, three thousand miles of floating clouds darken and lighten.
a wildgoose fledgling, left behind, cries for its flock, and a Tartar child for the mother he loves.
Sichuan is the net wave, and birds are mute that were singing.
the hometown of wuzhu tribe is far away, and out of the dust of Siberian steppes rises a plaintive sorrow.
suddenly the low sound leaps to a freer tune, like a long wind swaying a forest, a downpour breaking tiles.
a cascade through the air, flying over tree-tops, a wild deer calls to his fellows. He is running among the mansions.
east of Chang' an city is Yeyuan, phoenix Lake lies opposite the Gate of Green Jade.
but how can fame and profit concern a man of genius?, day and night I long for him to bring his lute again. Chapter 3: Song of the Sai Xia
Lu Lun (Tang)
the woods are black and a wind assails the grasses, yet the general tries night archery.
and next morning he finds his white-plumed arrow, pointed deep in the hard rock. Chapter 4: Listening to An Wanshan Playing the Bang Song
Mars (Tang)
bamboo from the southern hills was used to make this pipe, and its music, that was introduced from Persia first of all.
has taken on new magic through later use in China, and now the Tartar from Liangzhou, blowing it for me.
drawing a sigh from whosoever hears it, is bringing to a wanderer's eyes homesick tears..
many like to listen; but few understand, who travels in the long and violent wind.
dry mulberry-trees, old cypresses, trembling in its chill, there are nine baby phoenixes, outcrying one another.
a dragon and a tiger spring up at the same moment;, then in a hundred waterfalls ten thousand songs of autumn.
are suddenly changing to The Yuyang Lament, and when yellow clouds grow thin and the white sun darkens.
they are changing still again to Spring in the Willow Trees, like Imperial Garden flowers, brightening the eye with beauty.
are the high-hall candles we have lighted this cold night, and with every cup of wine goes another round of music. Chapter 5: The Village is Bitter and Cold
Bai Juyi (Tang)
In December of the eighth year, there were snows on five days.
all the bamboos and cypresses froze to death, and there was no clothing for them.
looking back at the village, ten rooms are poor.
the north wind is as sharp as a sword, and the cloth does not cover you.
I only burn Artemisia spines, so I sit at night and wait for the morning.
it is known that farmers are especially bitter when they are cold.
On this day, the thatched cottage is behind closed doors.
brown fur covers the quilt, and there is residual temperature when sitting and lying.
I was spared from hunger and cold, and I didn't work hard.
I'm ashamed to miss him. Ask yourself who it is. Chapter 6: Untitled time was long before I met her, but is longer since we parted
Li Shangyin (Tang)
time was long before I met her, but is longer since we parted, and the east wind has arisen and a hundred flowers are gone.
and the silk-worms of spring will weave until they die, and every night the candles will weep their wicks away.
mornings in her mirror she sees her hair-cloud changing, yet she dares the chill of moonlight with her evening song.
There are no multiple routes from Pengshan to oh blue-birds, be listening!-Bring me what she says!.