There is no ice involved in wild crossing, and people are not hungry.
The bridge spans the assistant minister, and a monument to Scheeren is erected beside the tomb.
Who hasn't died since ancient times Who hasn't thought twice before acting?
Splashing rich water is pulling lyrics.
This is a poem mourning a friend, expressing that everyone has life and death, and the grave is desolate after death, and I don't know who to mourn. Only continuous running water, that is, endless words for thousands of years.
2. Journey to the North Mang Sword
There is almost no idle soil at the top of Beimang Mountain, which is all the old graves of Luoyang people.
There are many people buried in the old grave, and there is no place to buy gold.
The end of the world is long and the burial day is fast, and Okasaka is rugged.
Zhang Su, a tall curtain, surrounded Mingjing and stayed at the foot of the mountain singing an elegy at night.
This is the poet's sentimental words when passing through the cemetery when passing through Beimang Mountain, describing the number of dead people and the busyness of grave-sweepers.
3, "Made in politely refuse" off.
The baby went to poverty and famine, and she died in sorrow.
The official came to record me, and the official came to check my body.
The rattan is tied to a wooden coffin, and the burial road is near vicious.
My hometown is in Wan Li, and my wife has a long life.
Lonely souls dare not return, but they are still here.
In the past, I learned from biographies and from the boudoir.
Once a strange disaster is caused, it will fall.
Weak and lonely with nothing to do, when will it return to bone?
Building roads cannot avoid taking advantage of mountains and seas.
Poison after poison, Peter Cang that know.
10 years old, the river is rushing, and birds and animals are crying sadly.
The air is cold and rainy, and the bleak wind blows.
The mourning palace is covered with moss, and paper money hangs empty branches.
No one has a sip of thin wine, who is with the rice?
There are no elegies, but there are elegies.
This is a eulogy written by Qin Guan, a great writer and poet in the Song Dynasty. Qin Guan had a rough life and was repeatedly relegated. Finally, his eyes are getting farther and farther away from Beijing, and he has returned to his hometown, which is gone forever. Qin Guan endowed the words with infinite sadness. Finally, he died in his hometown.