Antique Prose Poem 1: Pear Flower Music invites romantic scenery
The breeze gently blows pears, making eyes thousands of miles away. The flowing water is picturesque, and acacia is temporarily sent to the West Lake. Jinse secret realm, the beginning of Jiangnan, the good times on earth are unique. Recalling the story of childhood and the moon, hair is the tie. Moss is pear, silk thread is Wan Li. The wind and rain are picturesque, knock off lovesickness and make a cup of Yuquan Yu Zi. Red mystery, red Jiangnan, the other side of the world of mortals. Recalling the story of childhood and Qiaoyue, Qingjiang is a department.
My heart is guided and my heart is lifted. My heart is full of compassion and freehand brushwork. In trouble, trouble hides. The heart is like a cup, so is the color of the sea. Respect the striker, respect the striker. What do you mean before you? * * Xu took a look. The mountain is high and hidden. The mountains and rivers are green and the jade leaves are quite the same. As the sun sets, Jiangnan is heading for it. Pour a cup in the sky, it's absolutely cold, only the boat is in the direction. Dragon words sing, and dragon poems overflow. Tsing Yi transited for a long time, and the fog went to the top of the mountain. It's a long way to go, Xiu Yuan. The wind and horses are irrelevant, and the moonlight is cool, thousands of miles away. Pears sing, pears overflow. In the jade palace, the sun and the moon are long and pearls are endless.
Look at the fog, look at the clouds. The three worlds of the world of mortals are close at hand, and the difference between one thought and another is obvious to everyone. Hate the distance, hate hanging. Let go of sumeru and stride forward, full of poetry and wine. Looking up to heaven and learning Zen. The five lakes are wide in sky and chest, and you can see them with your eyes open. Cherish the water far away, cherish the mountain hanging. A gentleman is like a jade crossing a cloud, and poetry opens up.
Cultivate one's mind and nature, cultivate one's mind and nature Nine times nine raw fish are cultivated, and pear blossoms are accompanied by bridges. One step into space is too slow. When I set foot on Shen Xixian's mansion, Nanjiang was a feather. Look at the sky, look at the sky and look at the brocade book. I will support Pisces and laugh at Ying Ying Pear. Sent a message to Xu. Qin left a magnificent mansion, with phoenix feathers in the north and south.
Why ask when the goose will return? If the Tathagata visits heaven and earth, heaven and earth respect him. A Danchun, Huadi Village. Boat, Ye Long Ma Zhen, grateful, grateful. Don't ask about the flower month. Suddenly south and north mountain water patrol, Qing Zun mountains and rivers. Deep and pure, Yushu village. Mei rumors that Zhuxian Town knows how to be grateful.
The tinkling light of bamboo rings. At present, I am soaring and the fish soup is fragrant. Boil the soup in water and the wine. Pour tea, knock, knock within one square inch. Thunderbolt, loud. At that time, only Luan Nanxiang and Xiang came to draw blue soup. Boil the soup spring and the tea. You can only know what a stone is, and it is sonorous. Busy throwing wine, throwing wine walls. I fell to the ground with golden light, chewing incense in my mouth Poetic heart drops, poetic heart shakes. The heart of poetry is the same as the heart of stew, and the words of Chu are sailing. Busy out of the palace, out of the palace wall. Go in and out of the Royal River to enjoy the spring scenery, and go out to enjoy the fragrance. The emperor leaves fall, and the emperor leaves shake. The royal leaves are ups and downs, and they meet each other on the ladder.
Looks straight, looks long, looks far, and is square in size. Poetry wine wing and poetry wine wing and Xijiang refers to the sky. The moon is like frost, and the moon is like phase. The moon is like frost acacia, and the prince of Yushu is yellow. Next to the golden harp, next to the golden harp. Who won't let the Jinse be next to the moon? Empty stars move mountains, and Jiangnan sings. Ship-Ye Long Ma Fei, wherever it is. Boarding at Fengqiaoxi, the red moon carefully inscribed, watching the fire at night. The jade court is moving, and the spring and autumn sequence of Saibei. On the stranger, the autumn geese fly and are warm. Huanhuaxi, Ye Hong, there is no light. Pear flower and piano rhyme invite romantic, and go to Jiangnan together.
Antique Prose Poem II: Legend of Snowfall in the Spring Festival.
Passengers in Wan Li lean on the aperture, and the cloud behind them is Shui Han. Come to the roof, eager to have a look. My hometown is a very shallow place. It snowed and danced. Years change faces, but the heart refuses to be idle. In my dream, I still feel attached. I want to send plum blossoms with wine, snow and good years.
It is windy and snowy outside the window, and it is very cold at night. Whispering, red light dawning, sleepless shadows, Jade Man going to Wan Li, 10,000. Enjoy the heart of the mirror alone, passing Pengshan light year, and the spring scenery is moving.
The night snow in Xiao Feng lingers in front of the window, and the curtain lamp is weak. In a word, pear blossoms always attract attention before they bloom. Fragrant trees and plum blossoms will be admired by generations. Why keep the swan goose, jade wine is full, why persuade snow to be a song?
If it snows outside the window, the oven smells good and the wine bottle is idle. Love is still there, and thinking is always unprovoked. In a place of death and blue void, there is nothing ahead, covered with silver curtains to protect the cornices. It's a thousand miles away in Pingchuan, and it's snowing in the Spring Festival.
Snow country night light snow, powder cotton falling in succession, intentionally drunk innocent figure. The dream is gone, the land of lovesickness, carefree world of mortals, no fatigue. When you are in love, your face will fade, but you should have a clear conscience in this life and don't flatter others.
In the evening, the snow is thin and the wind is cold outside the window. In the dream, the flying flowers went home. In retrospect, many lovers make mistakes. Snow kissed the road outside the hedge curtain, pure and beautiful. When you walk through the snow in Xun Mei, you can't help laughing. The beautiful scenery is hard to live up to, and the willow shore is like spring, waiting to tell the lovesickness poems.
Snow across the window, night crying, frost clearing and leaf condensation, furnace smoke slightly covered, matchsticks and spirits help each other. Miss people far away, goose book tells, pour a pot of light on the shadow. Crazy songs gradually forget the dust, and the gods in the sky are not as good as them.
Prose Poems of Ancient Style III: Thinking of Fragrance and Goose Tune.
Winter is just right, the wind is faint, the curtains are rolled up, the setting sun is outside the willow, the green hills are covered, and the crimson is shaking in the air. Who * * * language, spend the night, love makes people ask Qin Lou, thinking about the fragrant period with geese, drinking wine, drinking water and clouds, drunk writing, not complaining about dreams.
The evening is cool, the wind is getting stronger, the fallen leaves startle the birds, the curtains are still covered, and the warblers are quiet. Whoever sent the lonely winter day has long been aged by the dark frost. It's hard to dream, but I have a lot of thoughts. Who knows when spring will pass? I am fascinated by flowers, and only blue lanterns are left. The river bridge has been hidden for a long time, and my tenderness has not been lost. I have a lot of thoughts, and my heart of missing you is like a delicious meal.
Crows are hidden in the leaves, the water is cold, and the sunset glow falls on the pond. Lily is charming, blue waves are rippling, the soul is gone, and the night is long. Frost, cold, drunken ink, fine print, a thousand lines in one mind, mountains and rivers, clouds meet, geese fly in the stars, and the moon dreams of crossing Xiaoxiang.
It's still too late to see the flowers in the secluded path. It's freezing in the cold, the golden core is stained with frost, the breeze is a few degrees, the red-violet is dragged, the posture is infinite, and the abortion is flying in anxious to return. At first, the case of aromatherapy jade improved. For the book lamp, the string tube rises, and forever and ever is the most impressive thing for Yuguan. Missing in the middle of the night, meiyin overlapping, lovesickness is not set.
The moon is bright and the smoke is clear, and the evening breeze is idle. Twilight gradually condenses the cold moonlight, which makes people tired and the jade color is even. The cloud window is oblique, fragrant and dark, and the curtain is scattered. How tired you are, how long you miss each other, and how your heart is conveyed in small print. When you have a drink, you will stay in the place where Ran Ran spent the New Year. You will find a book, a new voice and a rustling string.
Looking for incense in the evening, the wind blowing smoke, the pond is hot, the dead lotus is silent, the clouds are light and dusk, the dust is locked, the sky is jealous, the reeds fall, and the egrets and birds are frequently surprised, and the souls of the two places are gone. How to send infatuation away from missing, longing for the New Year, a person in the world, flying around, staring at the right, a few red flowers, brew tea for wine, chattering and listening.
The rain is cool, the vegetation is red, the water is yellow and half-dyed, and it is dark and hazy. Whoever closes the door will see the curtain warm. Move the guest's mind, make the winter look, the green is ashamed and tired, and listen to the brocade string, with long meaning and short meaning. After many years' travel, I carved Liang Yan. I came to accompany myself, and my heart was at ease, so I stopped complaining about the pipa.
The fourth antique prose poem: a glass of wine is a thousand worries
Osmanthus fragrans is thick. Yushu is a quiet place. The clouds are light and the wind is light, and the mountains are beautiful. What makes autumn sad? Time boils the rain and leaves the boat gently. I think it's just a flash in the pan. Why worry about people? The sky is boundless, and everything has interest.
Yellow flowers are cold and light. You can draw a corner to lure the fragrance. Flour flies, golden willows hang the wind and rain bridge, who competes with the front for thinness? The alarm clock stopped, I overslept, the wind blew on my feet, and the thin morning mist was still there. Just as the first mate frowned and seemed to be asking questions, was it too late to make up and wash? It won't happen again Small money buckle!
The wind is soft and the fragrance is late. Light smoke sinks into dusk and wrinkles are shallow. The number of judges in the grand event is pooled. How can we run on each other? Watch, whose Xiong Wa throws a fly ball, and the posture is still like a hook. One by one, he inhaled, whoosh, which beggar hit me on the head? Teenagers are ashamed, but they apologize. Throw it again, blush and miss it, stamp your feet straight, and finally have a chance.
Cardamom pointed autumn bald head. The makeup is light, and the mountains and rivers are Ming Xiu. The warm wind blows the gauze and it is tottering. Walk around the stage and look back against the railing. Birthday, everything is fine, the book is brilliant, and Long song is the wine. Students from all directions get together and wish their alma mater a long life and unlimited honor. Eighty old people call their teachers and friends!
With a flick of a finger, countless autumns, classmates get together and talk endlessly. Recalling Shao Hua's scholar spirit, he traveled around with mixed feelings. The Jinlong River flows slowly, and the chicks look old. Think of the plum branches in the past, but now I can't see enough. There is no reason for the pain of drunkenness. Slight frost makes people worry, and a thousand people mourn a glass of wine.
Autumn wind gently blows willow, and smoke waves for miles. Strangers, and acacia, send messages to lotus seeds on the south bank. Enjoy the beauty of youth and its moments of beauty, Jiangnan * * * has a special liking for this. Wan Li Qingjiang Moon is like a jade pot world.
Swallows say goodbye, the breeze gathers waves, and the elegant scenery adds clarity. After reading this, the butterfly dance croons, so don't bully the residual flowers. Google on a surface, white clouds, Wu Dikuo, Qin Feng lush. Birds sing, Shuang Yan goes into the forest and plays with the wind.
On the banks of Qingjiang Bridge, at dusk, the mountains are empty and the sky is quiet. Clouds * * * rain, oblique into the curtain, night Meng Han, early dew, such as frost, vegetation anger. Wild geese in autumn enjoy peaches and plums, and flowers are sent from north to south, and those who like the bright moon are also happy. You can lean on the Great Wall, dare not sigh again, and abandon your homesickness today.
There is no trace of the cloud, and the cape is drunk everywhere. Chang Yuyu, who plays for a long time, is speechless with eyes and smiles, year after year. Floating clouds, like me, come and go freely, not afraid to humiliate my free will, and the road is rugged, and I don't complain. The willow in light autumn can sleep, but it is hard to swallow without undressing.
Ancient Prose Poem V: Clouds and Friends' Romantic Scenery
Colorful clouds lead, a line of flying geese stick to the sky, autumn is right, lotus flowers are decorated with round beads, the evening wind blows green willows, the mountains are green, the smoke is light and the eyes are shallow, and the streams are reflected. I accidentally came back, added a glass of wine, leaned against the window bar, and was not idle at all. Between square inches, I swam around in my heart and lungs. Next to the white Yuquan, I saw a maple leaf Dan and a curtain.
The breeze is graceful and graceful, the lotus pond is full of water and blue flowers, and Shuang Yan, who is returning home, wears a curtain, and the sun sets in the west, and the twilight locks the light smoke. The past does not seek cowardice, and I am devoted to spring. People are quiet at night, but I am quiet, stealing words and sitting on a poem.
It's sunny late at night, and after dusk, the willow is soft and the wind is soft, the long pavilion is full of wine, and the water is far away. Acacia is afraid of broken strings all day long, and the sound is dust, and the yearning is pulling. The ends of the earth are half dyed, the wine is a bottle, and the autumn wind is leisurely.
The red makeup shines on Lianxi, and the light laurel shadow is patches of flowers, which are light and cold, quiet and dry, and the breeze stirs, and the painting curtain does not roll. The sky in Yushui is blue and colorful. I want to send geese. I went to the west building alone, the moon was just south, the wine was half full, and I dreamed it.
A light song fades away, sheep fly in, autumn is still cold, and the smoke from the canoe outside the willow is exhausted, and the dark dust is born, and the moon is small. I'm drunk, my face is young, I cherish the Spring Festival, I look for grass quietly, and I don't need to know other feelings. My heart is half full of poetry and dreams.
The dew mark is light, the bamboo wind is slow, the willow pond, the moonlight shines in the heart of autumn, the blue waves are horizontal, Yu Lian listens to the leakage, the pool smoke dances, and the shallow cold can't stay. Walking lightly, thinking about why, this scene is vivid and innocent in the dream. I'm going to keep my hair long for the ceremony, find my way through the flowers and go straight into the depths of the world of mortals.
Outside the willows in the setting sun, the twilight is light and cold, the dust shadow is chaotic, the wind is broken, the Xiang Lian dew is exposed, the crescent moon is wrinkled, and people are quiet, only the shadow lamp is opposite. Looking back on the ordinary poetry meeting, Song was always sleepless, and it was easy to get old. Who has today, scattered like spring scenery in the south of the Yangtze River, has increased the human touch. With this body, I don't care about all kinds of running water.
Antique prose poem 6: the wind is soft and the fragrance is late.
The wind is soft and fragrant, the light smoke sinks into the dusk, the eyes are shallow, and the fast-flushers are puzzled and relieved. Looking back on spring, I lean on the dressing floor. Wandering in the long river, the moon is hooked, the song is beautiful, and you pay for it yourself. After many years, don't complain about keeping your heart in prison.
In the courtyard, the grass is flourishing, the bees and butterflies are returning, the tender willows and yellow smoke are curling up, and the returning Yingying and Yan are caring for each other, painting clear water in the pond, admiring Xiang Lian, cutting the wind, and the grass is as green as ever. Laugh at me all my life because I made mistakes on purpose, and I am indifferent to the world of mortals. I have to take some time for myself. If I look back on my feelings in vain, I will complain. Teenagers are bohemian and there are many playboys. What I fear most is that my sideburns are dusty and my youth is negative.
You can learn to dance, sing without complaining, and watch the phoenix instead of being a heartbroken fairy. I didn't wear makeup at the beginning, leaning against Cuiwei, far from my feelings. I am so clever that I left Han Yun, and I am attached to thousands of people. I am diligent and seem to be able to talk to people.
Acacia can't be expressed. Just after the festive season, the fragrance is purple, the wind is light and new, the butterfly dance is brilliant, the fragrant lotus blooms, and the full moon is better. Narrow-minded, days of our lives, dark jealousy adds trouble, lingering, how much frost dyed sideburns, cherish the fleeting time of Zhu Yan, fade the fragrance of Peng Ying road, dream of Lin Xiao.
The ghosting and the flying blue butterfly, the willow shade is shallow, the time is swaying, the grass is in the sunset, the red lotus is green, and it is difficult to compete. I still don't understand. Why are you never say goodbye? The autumn wind blows the leaves, the wind cuts the snuff, and the night is sleepless. Wherever Hong Fei went, it was a good time to exist in name only. A faint fragrance was stolen from the wind, and the lights were dark and he wrote a few pages.
Trees are full of red. In early autumn, bamboo forests are sparse, butterflies are lazy, the weather is still hot, the wind is still light, and it is difficult to protect flowers. Yellow leaves fall, and before Xiao Fang went in spring, I made several mistakes. I didn't meet Qingyun Road, and I was drunk and resentful. Shao Huachun had no owner.