1. Three mourning poems (I): Married in seventeen years. It's not enough to be with each other, and now it's gone forever! How long can my hair stay in the body, and how long can this body last? The same hole not far from you is not dead or in tears.
We have been married for seventeen years, and being together is not enough, let alone losing you forever! I've seen a lot of white hair. How long can this body last? I don't think it's far from being in a cave with you. Now I still have a breath, and my tears flow every day.
2. Inscription of Nanxiangzi as a dead woman (Nalan Xingde): Tears are swallowed without words, only regret the past. Relying on Dan Qing's emphasis on knowledge, Ying Ying, a sad picture can't be distinguished, and the goose dream wakes up early at midnight. You woke up early, I was still dreaming, crying as deep as the wind, and the sound of the wind continued until dawn.
Tears shed silently, only regretting that I didn't cherish your efforts before. I want to use painters to find you in my memory. My eyes are blurred and my heart is broken. I can't draw it.
The parting words are still clear in my ears. Qi Fei's good dream was awakened in the middle of the night for no reason, but I still feel that I am in the dream, suffering every night, listening to the sound of iron horses blowing in front of the eaves, drumming louder, my thoughts come to my mind, and I often cry.
3. It's wrong to cross the door again (He Zhu)
Better than breaking into houses. Like what? What is the difference? Wutong was half dead. After first frost, Bai Yuanyang lost her partner. The grass is on the grass, and the dew is early. Old habitat and new growth. Lying in an empty bed listening to the rain from the south window, who will mend the clothes at night?
Come to Suzhou again and things will change. Why can't my wife who came with me go back with me? I am like a phoenix tree beaten by frost, and like a lost mandarin duck, lonely and tired.
Dewdrops on the tender leaves of green grass in Yuan Ye have just been dried. I wander in the room where I used to live together, and I wander in the new grave on the ridge. Lying in an empty bed, listening to the biting wind and rain outside the window, who will pick a fire for me to mend my clothes in the middle of the night?