1, Nian Nujiao, Song. The evening is cool and lovely, and the dusk is quiet, and the duckweed leaves are born by the wind. Who makes autumn sound through the willows? It was chilling at first. Spinning hibiscus, heavily smoked and submerged, faint fragrance. Sweep away the ice, and the small bed lies alone in the bright moon. When you are old, you should avoid sentimentality, because the scenery is good and you will be sad. It's a pity that people don't see the night, and the corner pillow is empty. Turn around without sleeping, get up and walk, and the grass will disappear when it is exposed.
2. Mourning poems, Xue Deyin, Sui. The flute in the wind tower is broken, and Zhang Gui's string is empty. Draw a beam to get sunshine, and the silver candle has gone with the wind. Where the moss steps, the flowers are not in the mirror dust. It's just that the remaining months are long and the night is always hazy.
3. Three mourning songs, Mei and Song. We are a couple, and now it's seventeen years altogether. It's not enough to just look at each other, let alone donate for a long time. How white my sideburns are, I would rather be safe for a long time. The same hole not far from you is not dead or in tears. Every time I go out, it's like sleepwalking, and everyone just manages. I'm still lonely when I come back, so who should I talk to? Sleepless nights, lonely fireflies fly in my ears, and geese cry in the sky. There is nothing more painful in the world, the spirit of the needle. Never cut it short, how dare you ask heaven.
4. My wife died ten years ago, and my family took a red shirt and neck in Luzhou, Xu Wei and Ming. Little Nuxi's shirt is warm and his sleeves are still folded. I don't know why I shed tears when I opened the box. It was full of snow and I fainted as soon as I boarded it.
5. Mourn Wu and He Ming. The autumn wind is empty, the wine wakes up and the clothes are full of tears. Trying to * * * tastes too early, and leaving is the same result. I'm still here because I'm ashamed of my relatives. There's nothing wrong with being born, sick and dead. The saddest thing is to look at a girl and a window lights up.
6. Mourning Poems, Wang Shizhen, Qing Dynasty. On the stranger, the flowers are fragrant, and the fish scales are wrinkled into lines. Red beans in Jiangnan are bitter, and flowers bloom every year to remember you.
On July 2 13, I dreamed of Yongjiang, Li Jian and Qing Dynasty. Once I spent two dreams, once I was speechless and missed it. Red beans are planted on the grave of acacia trees, which shows that beans are ripe and hit the grave.
8. Ai, Shang Jinglan, Qing. You are immortal, I still love life. There is a big festival between the monarch and the minister, and the son is also human. What happened before the threshold was broken, and the monument was built to die. Although life and death are different, chastity and whiteness complement each other.
9. A touch of crimson lips and a screen of acacia, Wang Guowei, modern. It's useless to know about it recently. If you can't throw it away, just look for it in your dream. When you wake up, you will be disillusioned with your dreams. The west window is white, the moonlight is cool one after another, and there is lilac snow in the first courtyard.
10, crying first on January, clear on Monday. I miss my parents' tears all night and will take them back in the morning. Afraid of hurting my mother's feelings, I secretly flowed to the pillow.