1. Drunk Flower Yin·Mist and thick clouds, sorrow of eternal day
Song Dynasty: Li Qingzhao
Mist and thick clouds, sorrow of eternal day, Rui Nao eliminates golden beasts . It’s the Double Ninth Festival and it’s the Double Ninth Festival. The jade pillow and gauze cupboard are cool in the middle of the night. (Cardboard: Kitchen)
After dusk when Dongli was drinking wine, there was a faint fragrance filling his sleeves. There is no way that I am not in ecstasy. The west wind blows behind the curtain, and people are thinner than yellow flowers.
Translation: The mist is thick, the clouds are thick, the days are sad, and dipterocarp incense lingers in the golden beast incense burner. It's the Double Ninth Festival again, and I'm lying in a gauze tent with jade pillows, and the cool air in the middle of the night has just soaked my whole body. I drank by the east fence until dusk, and the faint fragrance of yellow chrysanthemum filled my sleeves. Don't say that Qingqiu is not depressing. The west wind rolls up the bead curtain, and the people inside the curtain are even thinner than the yellow flowers.
2. Butterflies love flowers·The chrysanthemums on the threshold are worried about the smoke orchid and weep the dew
Song Dynasty: Yan Shu
The chrysanthemum on the threshold is worried about the smoke orchid and weep the dew, the curtain is light and cold, The swallows flew away. The bright moon does not know the pain of separation and hatred, and the slanting light penetrates Zhuhu at dawn.
Last night, the west wind withered the green trees. I climbed up to the tall building alone and looked across the road to the end of the world. If you want to send colorful notes and rulers, where can you tell if the mountains are long and the rivers are vast?
Translation: In the early morning, the chrysanthemums outside the railing are shrouded in a layer of sad smoke, and the dew on the orchids seems to be weeping dew. There were wisps of light coldness between the curtains, and a pair of swallows flew away. The bright moon does not understand the pain of parting, and the slanting silver light still penetrates Zhuhu until dawn.
The west wind was fierce last night and withered the green trees. I climbed up the tall building alone and looked at the road that disappeared into the horizon. I want to send a letter to my sweetheart. But there are endless mountains and endless clear water, and I don’t know where my sweetheart is.
3. Spring Sorrow
Qing Dynasty: Qiu Fengjia
Spring Sorrow can hardly send a strong man to look at the mountains, and the past events will shock his heart and bring tears to his eyes.
Four million people cried together, Taiwan was ceded to Taiwan today last year.
Translation: It’s hard to get rid of the sorrow of spring. I muster up my energy and look at the distant mountains. The past events are shocking and tears will flow from my eyes. The four million compatriots in Taiwan cried in unison. Today last year was the day when the motherland’s treasured island was ceded!
4. Jiangling is worried about sending children to safety?
Tang Dynasty: Fish Mystery
Thousands of maple leaves turn into thousands of branches, and the river bridge covers the late evening sail. ?
The heart of remembering you is like the water of the West River, flowing eastward day and night without rest.
Translation: On a desolate late autumn day, maple leaves floated on the river. At this time, a gust of west wind blew, and the trees all over the mountain made a rustling sound. When I heard this scene, I, little girl, felt sad. Looking far into the distance, you can see the river bridge hidden in the maple forest. It's already dusk, why haven't I seen my lover return by boat? Not seeing my lover return, I am anxious as a little girl. My longing for my lover is as endless as the water of the Xijiang River. My longing for him is as long as the flowing water is.
5. Huanxisha · I am so worried about the cold in the rainy morning
Qing Dynasty: Nalan Xingde
I am so sad in the cold in the rainy morning, how can I still be close to Xingxing? Flower row. Last year's high picking bucket was light.
My sleeves are purple with the smoke from the furnace, and my shirt is blue when I am drunk with wine. Where in the world can you ask for affection?
Translation: This continuous rain is like the sadness of constant cutting. I vaguely remember that last year we went to the apricot garden to play, and we climbed up the branches to pick flower branches together, competing to see who was the lightest and neatest. The smoke from the incense burner lingered gently, her sleeves glowed purple-red in the reflection of the fire, she was wearing a green shirt and her face was red with wine. The world is so vast, but there is still nowhere to find or place that sentiment.