Mud melts sand to warm the river bank, and the residual wheat straw is slightly cold.
A little pink smile hung on the branches, and the flowers in the spring breeze were intoxicated.
Second? summer
The silver tube is half broken and the book is half open, and the bamboo paper is turned white.
The bead curtain shook gently, but no one came, only to see the clear rain playing with moss.
Third? autumn
It's half a month in Ming Jiang, half an autumn in the middle of the river, and flying thousands of miles to rest the bow.
Ten thousand persimmons to report peace, one kind of lovesickness and two kinds of worries.
Fourth? winter
The north wind blows the snow-capped mountains with white heads, and the baizhang ice cliff locks the boat.
Fishermen cook cigarettes to warm the bright moon, while Li Weng catches the cold river mouth alone.