Shanglian:
Several floors, alone supporting the East Peak, near Shuiyao Mountain, in order to draw a spectrum, gather in Qing Xue, disperse white river smoke, bake the clouds and dye the fog in Tsing Yi. Poets sometimes miss the past, and soldiers sometimes raise their abilities. Only the poor stamens have fallen, the mirror of the spring boudoir has been buried long ago, and the loquat is lonely, leaving the villa fragrant and empty. I have mixed feelings about this. A smiling butterfly is always in a dream. Try to shout from above: By the way, whose property is this half month?
Downlink:
After thousands of years' work, he changed the Nishikawa Bureau repeatedly and made great achievements. He was a hero, jumped to the top of the mountain, plunged into the front of the slope, put down the tiger and sang frogs at the bottom of the well. Suddenly the iron horse and the golden pavilion, suddenly the silver Di, if not Long song short fu, throw some leisure hate leisure sorrow; Curling cloister, windy and rainy. I frowned, and there was no return to the four seas. Jumped to death and finally fell into the trap of Gankun. And bow to the dangerous ladder: look, that cloud is my day?