A berth at the foot of Beibao Mountain: Under the Blue Mountain, my boat and I meandered along the green water. Until the river bank widens at low tide, and no wind blows my lonely sail. ... night gives way to the ocean of the sun, and the old year melts in freshness. Finally, I can send my messenger, Wild Goose, back to Luoyang.
Thinking of my brothers in the moonlight night: a vagrant heard the drums that predicted the battle, which was the first call of a wild goose on the border in autumn. The dew turns to frost tonight, and the moonlight at home is bright! Brothers are scattered, and no one can ask about life and death. It is inevitable to send books. What can you expect in the war? .
Farewell to friends at Jingmen Ferry: Sail from Jingmen Ferry, and soon you will be with people in the south. At the end of the mountain range and the beginning of the plain, the river winds through the wilderness. The moon rises like a mirror, and the sea clouds twinkle like palaces. The water brings you the feeling of home and makes your boat travel 300 miles.
To Li Bai at the end of the sky: A cold wind is blowing in the distant sky. What are you thinking, old friend? . The geese never answered me, and the rivers, lakes and seas were flooded by rain. A poet should be careful to prosper, but the devil can trouble a vagrant. It should be * * * murder. Throw him the poem, where he drowned himself in the Milo River.
Returning to Zhongnanshan at the end of the year: I'm not petitioning at the North Palace Gate, but going to Zhongnanshan's shabby house. I have no reason to decide to give up my point of view. My old and many sick friends have stopped practicing. The frequency of white hair is that people are getting more and more every day, and spring is coming to force them to die. Full of sadness, tossing and turning, the pine forest is empty under the moon.