Ouyang Xiu's Waves on the Sand: It is endless hate to gather and disperse in a hurry. This year's flowers are better than last year's, but next year's flowers are even better, and then we will know who we are with.
Yu Linling of Liu Yong: Holding hands and staring at tears, I was speechless and choked up.
Yan's several "Qingping Music": the ferry is green and the branches are separated.
Chitose, a few thrushes
Song Dynasty: Zhang Xian
A few stingrays, and then report to Ren Fangfei for rest. Cherish the spring and break the red. The rain is small and the wind is fierce, and the plum blossoms are green. Yongfeng willow, no one is full of snow.
Don't pull strings, you can talk about it. The sky is not old, and the love is hard to break. The heart is like a double screen with a Qian Qian knot in it. The night has passed and the east window is not white.
Zhang Xian: Zhang Xian (990- 1078) was born in Wucheng (now Xing Wu, Huzhou, Zhejiang). A famous poet in the Northern Song Dynasty once served as the magistrate of Anlu County, so he was called "Zhang Anlu". Tiansheng was a scholar in eight years, and the official to Shangshu was an official doctor. He lived in seclusion between Shanghai and Hangzhou in his later years. I have traveled with Mei, Ouyang Xiu and Su Shi. Good at writing slow words, just like Liu Yong. He skillfully used the word "shadow" and was once called Zhang Sanying.
Langtaosha raised his glass to the east wind.
Song Dynasty: Ouyang Xiu
Drink Dongfeng and relax. Chuiyang Mozi Luocheng East. At that time, I always held hands and traveled all over the Champs.
It is endless hate to gather and disperse in a hurry. The flowers this year are better than those last year. It's a pity that the flowers will be better next year. Who do you know?
Yu Linling is cold and worried.
Song Dynasty: Liu Yong
The cicadas in autumn are so sad and urgent, facing the pavilion, it is in the evening and a sudden rain has just stopped. Farewell outside Kyoto, but not in the mood to drink, reluctant to leave, the people on board have been urging to start. Holding hands and looking at each other, tears swirled in my eyes until there were no words at last, and a thousand words stuck in my throat and I couldn't say it. Thinking of returning to the south this time, this journey is another road. Thousands of miles away, it is misty, and the night sky is a vast night fog.
Since ancient times, the most sad thing for sentimental people is to leave, not to mention the bleak autumn, how can they stand the sadness. Who knows where I am when I am awake tonight? Fear is just the edge, facing the sad morning wind and the setting sun of the waning moon. This is a long time, people who love each other are not together, and I even expect to be satisfied with the good weather and scenery in name only. Even if it is full of emotions, who can enjoy it together?
Qingpingle villager ju
Song Dynasty: Xin Qiji
The thatched roof of the hut is low and small, and the stream is covered with green grass.
Drunk Wu local drunk, gentle voice, white-haired old man who is it?
The eldest son is weeding in the bean field on the east side of the stream, and the second son is busy knitting chicken cages.
My favorite is my youngest son, who is lying in the grass, peeling the lotus just picked.