The clouds are against the rain, the snow is against the wind, and the evening sunshine is against the clear sky. The coming hong is facing the departing swallow, and the local bird is facing the singing insect. Three-foot sword, six-jun bow, Lingbei faces Jiangdong. The Qingshu Palace in the world is the Guanghan Palace in the sky. The willows and willows are green in the morning smoke on both sides of the bank, and the apricot blossoms are red in the spring rain in the garden. The wind and frost on the temples are the guests who set out early on the journey; the misty rain on the raincoat is the sign of the old man fishing by the stream at night.
The old man is against the yellow child. The river wind is against the sea fog, and Muzi is against the fisherman. Yanxiang is poor, Ruanlu is poor, and northern Hebei faces Liaodong. There is enough water in the pool, and the wind is blowing outside the door. Emperor Liang gave lectures at Tongtai Temple, and Emperor Han built Jiuweiyang Palace. The worries of dust linger in my heart, and I am lazy to caress the seven-stringed green silk; my temples are covered with frost, and I am ashamed to look at the hundred-refined bronze.
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