A cold wind is blowing from the distant sky. What are you thinking, old friend? .
The geese never answered me, and the rivers, lakes and seas were flooded by rain.
A poet should be careful to prosper, but the devil can trouble a vagrant.
Really should * * * ghost language, throw the poem to him, let him drown himself in the Milo River.
Du Fu, play six quatrains.
Yu Xin's articles are relatively old and successful, and Ling's brushwork is vertical and horizontal.
Today's people scoff at the spread of Fu, not realizing that former sages are afraid of future generations.
Yangwangluo Road is thin and light.
Second, the name of the grass is destroyed, and the rivers are abandoned forever.
Even if Lu Wang practiced calligraphy, he could not compare with the coquettish style of Han and Wei Dynasties.
Long Hu Wen's spine is under the control of the monarch, and you can see Er Cao through the calendar.
Du Fu's One Night in a Foreign Country
The breeze rippled on the grassy coast, through the night, and blew to my still mast.
The stars tilt down from the empty place, and the moon runs from the upper reaches of the river.
If only my art could bring me fame. The official took sick leave because of his old age.
Flying around, flying around, what am I like, just a sandpiper in the vast world! .