Song: Qin Guan
Mountain painted Wei Yun, the sky faded, and the horn was painted to break the door.
Suspend the collection, and talk about * * * leading away from the statue.
How many Penglai past events, empty looking back, misty.
Outside the setting sun, 10,000 points west of Western jackdaw, flowing water around the lonely village.
translate
On Huiji Mountain, the clouds are as light as half an ink painting; Outside Yuezhou, there are many weeds. The horn sounded intermittently above the city gate. On the passenger ship returning to the north, raise a glass to drink with geisha and chat goodbye.
Looking back, how many affairs between men and women turned into wisps of smoke and vanished. As the sun sets, Western jackdaw in the west adorns the sky, and a curved water surrounds the lonely village.
When I am sad, I feel gentle and sweet. In a trance, I untied the tie around my waist and took off my sachet. In vain won the reputation of brothel fickleness. I don't know when we can meet again after this trip. Tears of parting wet the skirt and cuffs. When it is sad, the city has disappeared, the lights have been lit, and the sky has entered dusk.
Second, remembering old friends, the candle shadow shakes red.
Song: Wang Shen.
Candle shadows are red until midnight, and I wake up and feel lazy.
Whoever sings "Yangguan" in front of you is far from hating the ends of the earth.
But the clouds are heavy and the rain is scattered With dry eyes and tears in the east wind.
Begonia after bloom, when swallows come, the courtyard at dusk.
translate
In the dead of night, I woke up from drunkenness and felt sad alone in front of the flickering candlelight. I can't help recalling the Three Stories in the Sun that I sang for him at the farewell party last night. Now that he has left me, let my parting sadness not follow him bitterly until the end of the world.
I feel deeply helpless, and the joy of the past has vanished. When I got up in the morning, I looked over the railing and saw no trace of him. A gust of east wind blew, and I couldn't help feeling sad and bursting into tears. Just stare at it. Before you know it, it's dusk, begonia has withered, and swallows have returned to their nests. In the sunset, the courtyard is more desolate and lonely.
Third, Yulin Ridge, chilling and sad
Song: Liu Yong
The cicadas in autumn are so sad and urgent, facing the pavilion, it is in the evening and a sudden rain has just stopped.
Farewell outside Kyoto, but not in the mood to drink, reluctant to leave, the people on board have been urging to start.
Holding hands and looking at each other, tears swirled in my eyes until there were no words at last, and a thousand words stuck in my throat and I couldn't say it.
Thinking of returning to the south this time, this journey is another road. Thousands of miles away, it is misty, and the night sky is a vast night fog.
Since ancient times, the most sad thing for sentimental people is to leave, not to mention the bleak autumn, how can they stand the sadness.
Who knows where I am when I am awake tonight? Fear is just the edge, facing the sad morning wind and the setting sun of the waning moon.
This is a long time, people who love each other are not together, and I even expect to be satisfied with the good weather and scenery in name only.
Even if it is full of emotions, who can enjoy it together?
Translation:
After autumn, cicadas are so sad and in a hurry. Facing the pavilion, it was at night and a sudden rain had just stopped. Outside Kyoto, farewell dinner, but no mood to drink. When I was reluctant to go, the people on board had already urged me to start.
Holding hands, looking at each other, my eyes were full of tears, and I couldn't speak until the end, and I couldn't say a thousand words in my throat. Thinking about going back to the south, this journey is another journey. Thousands of miles away, there is a wave of smoke and the dark night sky is endless.
Since ancient times, the most sad thing for passionate people is to leave, not to mention this bleak and cold autumn, how can this parting stand! Who knows where I will wake up tonight? I'm afraid only Liu 'an faces the sharp morning breeze and the waning moon at dawn.
It's been a long time since I left each other, and people who love each other are no longer together. I think even if we meet fine weather and beautiful scenery, it just seems like nothing. Even if it is full of affection, who can you enjoy it with?
Fourth, near-flower spring scenery
Author: Su Shi
Flowers wither and red apricots are small. Swallows fly, green water people go around.
Small catkins are blowing on the branches There are many fish in the sea.
Swing inside and outside the wall. The layman in the wall, the beauty in the wall laughs.
The laughter died away, and so did the sound. Affectionate but heartless chagrin.
Translation:
Spring is coming to an end, flowers are dying, and green fruits have grown on apricot trees. Swallows fly across the sky, and clear rivers surround the villagers. The catkins on the willow branches are blown less and less. Don't worry, there is lush grass everywhere.
Inside the fence, there is a girl playing on the swing. The girl gave a beautiful laugh, which could be heard by pedestrians outside the wall. Slowly, the laughter in the fence stopped, and pedestrians were at a loss, as if they were deeply hurt by a heartless girl.
Verb (abbreviation of verb) Qingpingle village residence
Song: Xin Qiji
The thatched roof of the hut is low and small, and the stream is covered with green grass.
Drunk Wu local drunk, gentle voice, white-haired old man who is it?
The eldest son is weeding in the bean field on the east side of the stream, and the second son is busy knitting chicken cages.
My favorite is my youngest son, who is lying in the grass, peeling the lotus just picked.
translate
The eaves of the hut are low and small, and the stream is covered with green grass.
Wu dialect, slightly drunk, sounds gentle and beautiful. Whose is that old man with white hair?
The eldest son is weeding in the bean field on the east side of the stream, and the second son is busy knitting chicken cages.
My favorite is my youngest son, who is lying on the grass at the head of the stream, peeling off the lotus just picked.