Lonely boudoir, one inch sad and tender. Cherish the spring to go, when to rush the rain.
Leaning against the post is just not in the mood! Where are people? Even it's getting dark, and the way home is broken.
Pick mulberry seeds with words
Who planted banana trees in front of the window? Yin fills the atrium; Yin fills the heart and leaves warm the heart.
Sad pillow night rain, a little light rain; A little rain, worried about the loss of northerners, not used to listening!
Don't pay attention to the beating rain in the forest. Mei sings a long whistle and walks leisurely. Bamboo poles and sandals are more dexterous than riding horses. What's to be afraid of? A raincoat and hemp fiber, despite the wind and rain, still live my life.
The coolness of spring breeze awakens my wine, and the cold begins to be cold, and the peak of the sun is the sun, but it is satisfied in time. Looking back at the place where I met the wind and rain, going back, for me, there is no wind and rain, but it is still sunny.
-Su Shi's Ding Fengbo
Yu Meiren? Listen to the rain.
Jie Jiang
Teenagers listen to the rain in the song building,
The red candle is weak.
In the prime of life, listening to the rain on the boat,
Jiang Kuoyun's Wild Goose is called West Wind.
Now listen to the rain monk,
The temple is full of stars.
Sorrow and joy are always ruthless,
Drop by drop, the next step is not started until dawn.
"Slow Voice" Li Qingzhao searched and searched, cold and clear, sad and miserable. It's the hardest to stop breathing when it's warm and cold. Three glasses of light wine, how can you beat him? It's too late in the wind. Guo Yan is very sad, but this is an old acquaintance. Yellow flowers were piled all over the floor, withered and damaged. Who can pick them now? Looking out the window, how can a person be dark? Indus is drizzling, and at dusk, it is falling. This time, what a sad sentence!
Li Qingzhao's Wutong is drizzling and dripping at dusk. This time, what a sad sentence! "Write sorrow with rain, rain dribs and drabs, don't give up day and night. The intermittent rain, dense and dense, set off the poet Lacrimosa's long-term sadness and pain.
The article's "More Leakage": Indus, the rain in the middle of the night, is the pain of love that never gives up. A leaf, a sound, empty footsteps fall into the light.
Cao Qinghu, Wan Li, and Huang Meiyu. I'm worried about the sound of the wind overturning the dark waves and hitting the boat on the beach. -Tang Bai Juyi's "Langtaosha"
He stared at the desolate moon from his temporary palace, and he heard the rain at dusk, cutting his chest. -Tang Bai Juyi's Song of Eternal Sorrow
Huanxisha Northern Song Dynasty-Qin Guan
Lonely and cold, going up to the small building,
Silver hooligans are like poor autumn.
Looking back at the screen, the light smoke, the flowing water, the mood is faint.
Flying freely is as light as a dream,
Continuous silk rain is as thin as sorrow.
Look again, the curtain of jewelry hangs on the silver hook at will.
Qin Guan's "Free flying flowers are as light as a dream, endless silk rain is as fine as sorrow" depicts flower rain, which is unique and unique. The poet doesn't mean that dreams are like flying flowers and worries are like drizzle, but that flying flowers are like dreams and drizzle, turning concrete into abstraction and finite into infinity, leaving a novel, mysterious and imaginative artistic blank.
How much leisure do you have? Yichuan tobacco, the wind in the city, and the yellow rain of plum-He Zhu.
He Zhu "How much leisure? In Yichuan Tobacco, Windy Catches in the City, Plum Rain in Yellow, the poet described sadness as concrete images, and compared leisure with tobacco on the riverbank, catkins rippling in the wind, and drizzle when plums in the south of the Yangtze River ripened.
It hurts to worry about the rain in spring and think about the past (Liu's Jin Mingchi)
The bell on the first floor struck the fifth watch, and the sadness in my heart was like being sprinkled in the spring rain in March. -Yan Shu.
Yan Shu's "Nightmare at Five o'clock on the Roof, Rain at the Bottom of Flowers in March" describes the pain of missing his wife. The spring rain in March, like a wisp of silk, is endless, like smoke and fog, and it is difficult to disperse. This is similar to the lingering bitterness and hatred in the abandoned wife's heart.