Is the ancient poem about thinking about women? What's the theme? Ancient poetry dreams of Jiangnan.

There are many poems on this subject in Dream South. Which poet did you say wrote it?

Jiangnan dream

Blue embers fall, and the screen is dark red bananas. Dreaming of plum blossoms in the south of the Yangtze River, whistling in the night boat and rustling in the rain. At the People's Postal Bridge. Year: Tang Author: Complete Poems of Huang Fusong, Huang Fusong

Jiangnan dream

Sleeping upstairs, the curtains fall under the waning moon. I dreamed that Moling was melancholy, and peach blossoms and catkins filled Jiangcheng. Sitting in blowing sheng's bun. Year: Tang Author: Complete Poems of Huang Fusong, Huang Fusong

Jiangnan dream

Never hate, hate to the ends of the earth. I don't know what the mountains and the moon are thinking. The water and the wind fall in front of me, swaying the Yun Lan and slanting. Year: Tang Author: Wenwen Quanshi

Jiangnan dream

Sing Dongting sentences, not Dongting people. Every day I dream of a blue river, the mangrove forest in the south of the Yangtze River in spring. Year: Tang Author: Complete Poems

Jiangnan dream

Sad leaves fall in spring. There are leaves in Ye Fei, and no one goes there every year. Red ribbons and tears are new. Year: Qing Author: Qu Dajun, Qu Dajun's poems.

Jiangnan dream

Sad leaves will never come back. Even if the trees are full of flowers, the new branches are not old branches. And the water is late. Year: Qing Author: Qu Dajun, Qu Dajun's poems.

Jiangnan dream

Who does Xiao Li hate? The snow suddenly turned over the fragrant pavilion, and the breeze blew the bottle of plum, and the heart turned to dust. Year: Qing Author: Nalan Xingde's Complete Poems of Nalan Xingde

Jiangnan dream

I'm so new here. I'm talking like a tiger. A piece of Leng Xiang is only a dream, very thin and poetic. The standard situation has long been known. Year: Qing Author: Nalan Xingde's Complete Poems of Nalan Xingde

Jiangnan dream

Red jasmine, dressed as a flower comb The golden plumes of smoke turned into butterfly cocoons, and the hair clasp on the head was a phoenix chick in early winter. Willing to remember my old friend. Year: Qing Author: Qu Dajun, Qu Dajun's poems.