Alone in the west wing, the moon is like a hook. Lonely phoenix tree deep courtyard, lock clear autumn.
Cutting is still messy, which is parting from sorrow. It's not the general taste, it's in my heart.
An autumn night in the mountains
The empty mountains are bathed in a new rain, and feel the early autumn at night.
The bright moon shed clear light from the cracks and cleared the fountain on the rocks.
The bamboo forest is sonorous, the washerwoman returns, and the lotus leaves are swaying to get on the canoe.
Spring spring might as well give it a rest, and the autumn sun can stay on the hills for a long time.