1. Poems about fishing in autumn
Poems about fishing in autumn 1. Poems about fishing in autumn
1. Picture of Fishing Alone on the Autumn River Qing Dynasty: Wang Shizhen A straw hat, a straw hat, a small boat, a foot of silk fiber and an inch of hook.
A song and a bottle of wine, one person fishing alone in the river. Translation: Wearing a bamboo hat and a raincoat, sitting on a small boat, with a fishing line one foot long and a fishhook one inch long; singing a fishing song loudly and drinking a bottle of wine, alone on the river in autumn fishing.
2. Shui Tiao Ge Tou·Inscribed on the Qing Dynasty picture of cool autumn in the Western Mountains: Nalan Xingde's empty mountain is quiet, and the shadows of the water and moon are sinking. No one is allowed to invade the leisurely world.
At the end of the year, I recall the places I visited, and I still remember the half-pole slanting light, a hint of the sparse forest. In the top thatched hut, Lao Na was singing alone.
Tin in the clouds, fishing at the head of the stream, and harp by the stream. How many clogs are there in this life, who knows the wandering mind? I planned to ride the wind back home, but by mistake I looked back to Huai'an. When will I be able to throw in the hairpin?
Cloth socks and blue shoes are available, but I’m looking for a picture. Translation: Empty Mountain Fanbai, Water Moon Cave Sky, this worldly quiet mountain forest, does not stir up a trace of worldly dust.
I still remember the scene of a faint cloud on the sparse forest as the sun set. In a thatched house on the top of the cliff, an old monk was meditating.
Walking in the mountains, fishing on the stream, and playing the piano by the stream, it is really a joy. Living in seclusion in the mountains, wandering around, wearing out several pairs of shoes in a lifetime, who can understand my mood of wandering around while admiring paintings? In the past, I mistakenly entered the official career, coveting wealth and honor, but now I regret it and want to return to the mountains and forests, but when will this wish be realized? I just hope to find it in this painting.
3. Indulge in the east wind·Fisherman Yuan Dynasty: white plain and yellow reed bank at Baiping ferry, green willow embankment and red polygonum beach. Although there is no one to cut off one's neck, there are friends who forget the opportunity and spot the egrets and gulls on the Qiu River.
The arrogant man kills thousands of nobles in the world, and the illiterate smoke waves catch the old man. Translation: Golden reeds cover the river bank, white apple blossoms float at the ferry, green willows stand on the river embankment, and bright red weeds color the beachhead.
Although I don’t have life-and-death friendships, I do have friends who have no scheming intentions, such as those gulls and herons that roam freely on the Qiu River. It is the illiterate river fishermen who despise those dignitaries.
4. Two Tang Dynasty poems about Rain on the Stream: Cui Daorong returns to the pond. The rain's feet are like reeling silk, and wild birds cannot sink and fish fly. There is no time left for tilling and fishing, and Akita is expected to be wet.
Sit and watch the black clouds carry heavy rain, spraying the front mountain, which is sunny. Suddenly the clouds and rain were on my head, but there was night lighting in front of the mountain.
Translation: On the winding surface of the pond, the rainwater is as densely woven as silk. Wild birds cannot take off because of the heavy rain, but the fish are so frightened that they leap up on the water. Neither the cultivators nor the fishermen had time to get their coir raincoats and bamboo hats. How the fields in autumn were looking forward to such a hearty rain.
I sat and watched the thick dark clouds in the sky spraying rain on the mountains ahead, but the sun was still shining brightly here. Suddenly, rolling dark clouds carrying showers of rain fell on my head! However, I unexpectedly discovered that the green mountain peaks ahead reflected the afterglow of the setting sun! 5. Jiuquanzi·Remembering the West Lake for a long time in the Song Dynasty: Pan Lang recalled the West Lake for a long time.
Looking up from the balcony all day long: fishing boats in twos and threes, the island is in the clear autumn. The sound of the flute echoes in the reed flowers, and white birds suddenly start in a row.
Don’t come here to adjust the fishing rod, thinking about the water and the cold clouds. Translation: I often think of wandering around the West Lake, standing on the balcony all day long, overlooking the lake and mountains from the railing: fishing boats in twos and threes on the lake, and the colors of the small islands high in the sky and distant.
The most unforgettable thing is that when a melodious flute sound came faintly from the reed pond, it startled the egrets living there, and they suddenly flew up in groups and lined up. The scenery of the West Lake makes me envious, so once I leave it, in my free time, I regain my interest in fishing and start repairing fishing tools. At this moment, I feel like I am in the cool and spacious autumn scenery of the West Lake again.
2. Poems about fishing in autumn
Picture of fishing alone on the Autumn River
(Qing Dynasty) Wang Shizhen
One coop, one hat and one small boat, One foot of silk fiber and one rain hook.
A song and a bottle of wine, one person fishing alone in the river.
Mountain-dwelling Autumn Borer
(Wang Wei)
After the new rain in the empty mountains, the weather comes late in autumn. The bright moon shines among the pines, and the clear spring flows over the rocks.
The bamboo noise returns to Huan Nu, and the lotus moves off the fishing boat. The spring fragrance rests at will, and the king and grandson can stay.
Reward Zhang Shaofu
Wang Wei
In his later years, he was very quiet and did not care about anything. I have no long-term plan, and I know I will return to the old forest.
The pine wind blows the belt, and the mountain moon shines on the piano. When you ask poor questions, the fishermen's songs go deep into Pu Shen.
Going to the Tongguan Posthouse in Queti in autumn
Xu Hun
The red leaves are rustling in the evening, and there is a ladle of wine in the Changting Pavilion. The remaining clouds return to Taihua, and the sparse rain passes through the middle section.
The color of the trees changes with the pass, and the sound of the river flows into the sea far away. When the bright moon comes in the imperial hometown, I still dream of fishing and woodcutter.