Far up the Hanshan Mountain, the stone path is slanted, and there are people living in the white clouds.
I park my car and sit in the maple forest at night, the leaves are as red as the flowers in February due to frost.
The courtyard is full of flowers and the maple leaves are blooming
The sunset is red, the autumn scenery is magnificent, and the leaves are dripping with frost. The dream is gone, but the dream is gone. Who knows the simplicity and elegance? No resentment, only pity for the dead leaves. The clouds cover my tears, the wind makes me haggard, and the water weeps to express my sorrow. Worrying. Love is attached to the world, sorrow and hope are everywhere, and the shadow is alone. I want to complain that I have no one to accompany me, so I cry and chant poems. The waning moon shines silently and coldly, making it difficult to raise the eyebrows, like a sick couplet. Transformed into soil, no thoughts left, waiting in silence before winter.
Nostalgia for ancient times at Niuzhu by Li Bai
At night in Niuzhu Xijiang River, there is no cloud in the blue sky.
When I boarded the boat and looked at the autumn moon, I remembered General Xie.
I can chant loudly, but this person cannot hear it.
In the Ming Dynasty, sails and mats were hung, and maple leaves fell one after another.
Jiangling worries about sending children to safety and fish mystery
Thousands of maple leaves turn into thousands of branches, and the river bridge covers the late evening sail.
My heart is like the water of the West River, flowing eastward day and night without rest.
Night Mooring at Fengqiao Zhang Ji
The moon is setting and the sky is filled with crows and frost, and Jiang Feng and the fisherman sleep in sorrow.
Hanshan Temple outside Gusu City, guests arrive at midnight
Sanlu Temple Dai Shulun
The flow of Yuan and Xiang is endless, how deep is the resentment of Qu Song.
Autumn smoke rises at dusk, Xiao Xiaofeng woods
Li Shangyin
Who can accompany me when I am lonely on a cold night? It is hard to break up with the rain.
When Feng was drunk and had yet to wake up, he fell in love with the world and regretted that he had no chance.
"A Presentation to Huainan Li Pushe" by Zhao Xia of the Tang Dynasty
In his early years, he paid homage to the rich people, but today it is hard to accept the loss and be ashamed.
The new promise is like a mountain and I cannot bear it, and the old kindness is like water flowing all over my body.
The red leaves are rustling in the evening, and the sunshine is shining on the Yangtze River in autumn.
It is worth noting the countless merits and virtues, but a single word can bring about hundreds of lives of sorrow.
Send Wen Shangshu to Luo, Song Dynasty Kou Zhun
Send Xiaoxiao Hongye Ma Qianqian, and send Wangsun Zhoujin back home.
But when I visited the old place, I felt sad. The stream was full of fish and rocks in autumn.
"Moving to Residence" by Song Dynasty author: Wu Zeli
I have been around for a long time and have no strong plans for repairing the door, so I invaded China and wanted to donate books.
The mink fur is covered in dust on weekdays, and the thatched hut is in the rivers and lakes in its old age.
After the moon falls in the blue sky, the red leaves flutter and the wild geese arrive.
My old friend brought me wine and brought me good things, and sent me to forget my old house
Jinling nostalgic for the Song Dynasty·Wang Gui
It was a long time to visit my hometown and visit the ancient times, and I went to the river city alone to see the autumn. .
A bird brings smoke to leave Zhugisa, and a few sails and rain return to the boat.
Xiao Xiaomu blew the red leaves, and miserable cold clouds pressed down on the old building.
Who can ask about the desolation of our motherland? People’s hearts will never be more romantic.
Mr. Lu Xun wrote in the poem "Send Master Zeng Tianshe back to his country"
The hibiscus trees are blooming in autumn, and the maple leaves are as bright as red.
But the hanging willows are folded to see off the returning guests, and my heart follows the east coast to recall the past.
Guo Moruo once wrote a red leaf poem:
The red leaves have endured frost for a long time, but they still love the old branches.
Open the window to listen to the dawn birds, and bow your head to write new poems.