Building a house is human, and there are no horses and chariots.
What can you do? The heart is far from being self-centered.
Picking chrysanthemums under the east fence, you can see Nanshan leisurely.
The mountains are getting better and better, and the birds are back.
That makes sense. I forgot what I wanted to say.
The third and fourth sentences of the ancient poem "Autumn Night in the Mountain" by the Tang Dynasty poet Wang Wei are as follows:
The empty mountains are bathed in a new rain, and feel the early autumn at night.
The bright moon shed clear light from the cracks and cleared the fountain on the rocks.
The bamboo forest is sonorous, the washerwoman returns, and the lotus leaves are swaying to get on the canoe.
Spring spring might as well give it a rest, and the autumn sun can stay on the hills for a long time.
Mei Huang Shi, every family was flooded by rain, and the pond was covered with green grass and frogs.
It's past midnight, and the invited guests haven't come yet. I tapped the chess pieces bored and shook the wick of an oil lamp.
The third and fourth sentences of Liu Changqing's ancient poem Bieyan Poetry Garden are as follows:
The spring breeze leans against the green city, and the water town is cold, cloudy and sunny in spring.
Drizzle wet clothes can't be seen, idle flowers fall to the ground and listen to silence.
Sailing alone on the sunset river, the grass is green in Wan Li, Hunan.
If the host asks every acquaintance, Qingpao has missed the Confucian scholars today.