Shigui's poems are as follows:
1. "The Journey of the Grand Administrator of Yanmen"
Black clouds are pressing down on the city, threatening to destroy it, and the light of armor opens towards the golden scales of the sun. . The sound of the trumpet fills the autumn sky, stuffed with swallow fat and the night is purple.
A half-rolled red flag stands near the Yishui River, but the sound of heavy frost and cold drums cannot be heard. I will report to you on the golden platform and support the jade dragon to die for you.
2. "Twenty-three Horse Poems·Part 5"
The sand in the desert is like snow, and the moon in Yanshan Mountain is like a hook. Why should I be golden and have a strong brain? Walk quickly to enjoy the clear autumn.
3. "Gaoxuan Guo"
Han Yu and Huangfu Shi Yushi saw it and ordered it to be made of a colorful bridle, woven as green as onions, and a golden ring weighing down the bridle.
The sound of horse hooves is rumbling, and the horse's energy is like a rainbow when entering. Yun is a talented scholar from Tokyo and a great writer.
Twenty-eight constellations have a broad mind, and nine spirits are in it. The sound of the poems written in front of the hall is empty, and the pen is in vain to make up for the creation of heaven.
Pangmei's book guest feels the beauty of autumn, but who knows that dead grass will give birth to splendor. Now I am hanging my wings and attach myself to the underworld, but in the future I will not be ashamed of a snake and become a dragon.
4. "The Rain Stagnates in Chongyi"
Whose family is here to feel the autumn of Chang'an. In the prime of life, people hold grudges, and weeping in dreams makes them grow old.
The thin horse's fodder is lost to the grass, and the raindrops float in the cold ditch. The ancient curtains in the Nangong are dark, and the wet scenery is passed down.
My home is thousands of miles away, with the clouds at my feet and the sky to the east. When I sleep in sorrow, I sleep on my sword box, and when I sleep in the guest room, I dream of becoming a marquis.
5. "Song of Joy"
The autumn wind blows the dry grass on the ground, and the beautiful green shadows are born with the late cold. When I was twenty, I felt dissatisfied. I was as sad as a withered orchid.
The clothes are like flying quails and the horses are like dogs. Linqi strikes a sword and produces a copper roar. Qiting dismounted and took off his autumn clothes, and asked Yiyang to have a pot of wine.
The sky is called in the pot and the clouds do not open, and the day is thousands of miles leisurely and desolate. The master advised me to nourish my heart and bones and not to be filled with worldly things.
6. "Li Ping Konghou Yin"
Wu Si, Shutong and Zhang Gaoqiu, the empty mountain is condensed and the clouds are not flowing. Jiang E cries about Zhu Su's female sorrow, and Li Ping plays the Chinese harp. Kunshan's broken jade phoenix screams, hibiscus weeps and dew fragrant orchid smiles. Cold light melted in front of the twelve doors, and twenty-three silk threads moved the purple emperor. Where Nuwa refines stones to mend the sky, the stones break the sky and make the autumn rain startle. I dreamed of entering the sacred mountain to teach the goddess, and the old fish danced the thin dragon dance. Wu Zhi sleepless and leans against the osmanthus tree, flying wet and cold rabbits sideways with bare feet.
7. "The Golden Bronze Immortal's Song of the Han Dynasty"
In August of the first year of Qinglong, Emperor Ming of the Wei Dynasty, he ordered the palace officials to lead a carriage to the west to fetch the Han Xiaowu Immortal holding a dew plate in order to erect it Front hall. After the palace official removed the plate and the immortal came to carry it, he burst into tears. Li Changji, the king of the Tang Dynasty, then composed "The Golden Bronze Immortal's Ci Han Song".
Maoling Liu Lang is a visitor in autumn. He hears the horses neighing at night but leaves no trace at dawn. The osmanthus tree hangs the autumn fragrance on the picture railing, and the earth flowers in the thirty-sixth palace are green.
Wei Guan leads the chariot and points thousands of miles, and the sour wind of Dongguan hits his eyes. The Han moon comes out of the palace gate in the sky, and my tears are like lead water when I remember you.
Shenglan sees off guests on Xianyang Road. If the sky is affectionate, the sky will also grow old. Carrying a plate alone out of the desolate moon, Weicheng is far away and the sound of waves is small.