Poems of Neem Flowers

Walking in Zhongshan Late: Light rain and light wind fall on the flowers of neem tree, as thin as snow and as flat as sand. Jiangcun Road, Park Hedgehog Bamboo House, when I saw Yicheng selling restaurants. This is an impromptu lyric poem by Wang Anshi, a writer and politician in the Northern Song Dynasty, which is elegant and indifferent. If there is no wind, the rain will disperse and fall on the petals of neem flowers, like winter snow covering the endless fields. Buy wine farmers, hibiscus as hedges, bamboo as thatched cottage, leisurely and carefree.

"Mr. Yin writes about the wall of the lake": Mulberry strips are full of flowers, and the wind gathers fragrance and darkens the wall. After several dreams, the yellow bird still suspects that it belongs to the Mid-Levels Garden. This is a group of fresh, elegant, unique and beautiful poems inscribed by Wang Anshi, a writer and politician in the Northern Song Dynasty, on the wall of his good friend Mr. Hu Yin. Mulberry branches and leaves are sparse, and neem flowers are very prosperous. The breeze blew the flowers and quietly sent them over the wall. The oriole crowed several times and dreamed of going home.

Melia azad Lah: In the yard, Ying Ge is resting, and butterflies are dancing alone on the wall. Tianxiang feather treasure, palace purple halo tassel. I'm fascinated by green. I'm drawing. We should only say goodbye in spring and stay in Boshan furnace. A poem about neem flowers written by a famous poet in the late Tang Dynasty is beautiful, rich and elegant. In late spring, all flowers fall, butterflies are scarce, neem trees are fragrant, and summer purple is dense, covering the sky and covering the courtyard. Spring is about to leave, leaving behind beauty and reluctance.

The second rhyme of "Four Poems of Yin 'an" Part I: a fishing net by the big Ruotang and a hoe at the mouth of the small Taoyuan. Poetry urges obedient teenagers to become chickens, and tea neighbors Weng taro to dig the ground. The wind of Melia azedarach is freezing cold, and the drizzle of Huangmei is crisp. At this time, I slept three feet a day, and I turned on the switch to attract drinkers. This is a fresh, elegant, lively and refined impromptu poem by Huang Tingjian, a famous poet in the Northern Song Dynasty. In early spring, it's warm and cold at first sight. The strong wind in March froze the neem tree to the bone, but the drizzle in Huangmei season was as moist as butter.