Li He
Wu Si, Shutong and Zhang Gaoqiu, the empty mountain is condensed with clouds that are not flowing.
Jiang'e cries about the sorrow of the bamboo girl, and Li Ping plays the konghou in China.
The broken jade in Kunshan screams as a phoenix, and the hibiscus weeps and the fragrant orchid smiles.
The cold light melts in front of the twelve doors, and the twenty-three silk threads move the purple emperor.
Where Nuwa refines stones to mend the sky, the stones break the sky and amaze the autumn rain.
I dreamed of entering the sacred mountain to teach the goddess, and the old fish danced the thin dragon dance.
Wu Zhi sleepless and leans against the osmanthus tree, flying wet and cold rabbits sideways with bare feet.