Lu You's Hairpin Phoenix;
Red crisp hands, Huangteng wine, Mancheng spring willow. Dongfeng evil, with a faint heart and a cup of sadness, has been separated for several years. No! No! No!
Spring is the same, people are empty, and tears are red and sad. Peach blossom falls, idle pool pavilion, although the mountain alliance is there, it is difficult to hold books. Mo! Mo! Mo!
Tang Wan's Chai Fengtou;
The world is thin, human feelings are evil, and it is easy to fall when the rain is sent late. The breeze is dry, the tears are gone, and I want to worry about it. Difficult! Difficult! Difficult!
People become people, today is not what it used to be, and the sick soul often seems to be thousands of miles away. The bugle sounded cold, the night was dim, people were afraid to ask questions, and tears pretended to be happy. Hide. Hide. Hide.
The Book of Songs has rich views on life and death, and Zicheng said. Hold your hand and grow old with your son.
Li Bai's 357 words entered my lovesick door, knowing that I was lovesick for a long time and lovesick for a short time.
Xu Gan's thoughts come from your own mind, but the mirror is dark and incurable. Thinking of a gentleman is like running water, why bother to be poor all the time?
Zhang Xianqian is not old, and his feelings are hard to break. The heart is like a double screen with a Qian Qian knot in it.
Li Shangyin made a splendid speech, but a moment that should last forever came and went unconsciously.
Zhang's "One-night Lovers in the Swallow House" didn't last long.
Su Shi Jiangchengzi was born and died for ten years, but he never thought about it, but he was unforgettable, and he had nowhere to talk.
Bai Juyi's Song of Eternal Sorrow lasts forever; One day both will end, and this endless sadness will last forever.
Li Shangyin has no problem. Spring silkworms have to weave until they die, and tears are exhausted every night.
I won't believe Yuan Zhen's Eight Poems in the Spring of Six Years and Mourning for the Past if you don't cry.
I am a crane in a cage, and Shen Jianjun is a dragon under the spring.
There is also a lonely pillow in the heavy quilt, and there is no tailor to revive the spring shirt.
Found three or four pages of old books, rows of high and low, wide and narrow.
Talk to yourself, eat high, and only read mountains and deep roads.
Gong silently crossed the river and went to Qiu Lai the previous spring.
Nowadays, the idle window is dusting, and the residual strings are still swaying.
The servant girl dries the rest of your clothes, and the innocent girl walks around the bed.
The jade comb is fragrant, and the wind blows the tortoise shell all day long.
After drinking with guests for a long time, you get drunk when you take advantage.
Strangers will cry when they wake up, and they will always ask you the wrong questions when they are drunk.
I followed Chu Zebo in the middle of the stalk. You are the mud of Xianyang in spring.
Pepsi has no intention of serving cold food. She will cry in front of a girl's account.
Naive and crazy, hydrangeas are in front of the house.
As soon as the sick body gets under the ear curtain, it also goes to sleep on its back.
Not as good as the first white head, learning Zhuang Zhou's tears are not much.
Only when you are sad, you must reflect on yourself. There are all kinds of storms before and after the stream.
Send grief
one
You're like Gong's favorite daughter, and it's not going well to marry me, a poor man.
You patch my clothes from your own wicker basket, sell wine and dial gold hairpin.
You eat your food with wild vegetables, but your food is sweet. You cook with dead branches with leaves.
Today they paid me $100,000 and your camping wine.
Secondly,
I used to joke that it was behind us, but now it is in front of us as you said.
The clothes you have worn have been given away, and I can't bear to open your sewing box.
Because I miss you, I love girls very much, and many of your dreams, I will burn paper for you.
No one knows that the husband and wife will be sad, and many past memories are extremely sad.
third
I'm sitting here alone, mourning for both of us. How many years is my seventy years old? .
No offspring is fate, and Pan Yue just mourned his dead wife in vain.
Even if you can bury it, you can't tell a passion. What an illusory hope the fetters of the afterlife are.
However, when I open my eyes, I can see the whole night, the lifelong troubles in your brow. [ 1]?