Using the sound of water, Ye Ping deserted.
Wu is difficult to reach, Yantai Road is very long.
Men are few guests and don't distinguish between other places. Analysis of the Yellow River, expressing melancholy; The author of this poem stayed on a boat in the Yellow River on a bright night. The beaches on both sides of the strait are shining silver in the moonlight, which reminds people of the atmosphere of the ancient battlefield. The yellow river is pounding on the shore, making a thrilling sound. It swims along the open Ye Ping like a dragon, without knowing where to come and where to stop. I have been traveling on official business for a long time, and there is no definite trace. It is difficult to communicate with my hometown letters, and there is no way to ask Wenda. This miserable situation makes people feel depressed. I don't know what dusk is or the gloom of my hometown. Li (1575 ~ 1629) was a poet and painter in the Ming Dynasty. The word is long and the word is luxuriant. The numbers are Yuan Tan, Xianghai, Guhuaitang and Cang 'an, and the numbers at night are Shenyu lay man and Liu Fu Taoist. Shexian (now Anhui Province) lives in Jiading (now Shanghai). At the age of 32, I was promoted to a higher position, and then I gave up my career. Poetry and songs are mostly paid for writing scenery, and their styles are fresh and natural. Together with Tang, Lou Jian and Cheng Jiasui, they are also called "Mr. Jiading Four". Be good at painting landscapes and learn from Zhenwu and Huang. He is cold and fluent, and he is one of the "nine friends in painting". I also worked hard on calligraphy. plum
Baiyun River returns to its hometown and sings before the moon. Hu Die's dreamer Wan Li and Zi Guizhi were late at night last month. Recalling the cold light and returning to my hometown to recall the past; Like a flock of lost geese. On Christmas Eve after the bonfire, I dreamed of my hometown. Homesick at night, disgusting during the New Year. Suddenly I heard that simple melody you sang, which made people cry. Accompanied by leaves and autumn sounds, a little banana and a little sadness, after the third night of dreams. I went to that isolated country, but I missed home for a long time. The sunset melts into gold, and the clouds merge, where are people? People say that the place where the sun sets is the horizon. I try to look at the horizon, but I can't see my home. The arrival of the new year is more homesick, and the independent horizon can't help crying. The heart that misses my hometown is like the continuous Fenhe River, and I miss my hometown all the time. Looking forward to your family's birthday is a long-term hatred. But I looked home, and the twilight was getting thicker. The river is shrouded in mist, which brings people deep melancholy. Looking at the clouds to cover your eyes, homesick for raindrops.