The river under Yueyang is vast and boundless; Standing alone on the tall building, leaning against the railing.
In spring, the green color echoes the vegetation in Dongting Lake in the distance, and the rosy clouds echo the red waves in the lake in the evening. The red waves are close at hand and seem to be the capital Chang 'an.
The old ape on the shore stood on the tree and cried miserably, and the geese in the sky had a hard time flying over the boundless lake.
This place is magnificent and beautiful. It can only be painted as a barrier and hung in the lobby of your rich people for their appreciation.
Give it to Wang Wei.
Riding a bike to visit the border and passing through Juyan County.
Levy Peng, return the geese to Wu.
The vast desert is lonely, and the Yellow River sets the yen.
When I arrived at the small pass, I met a spy waiting for the knight and told me that Dou Hu was in Yan.
Bordet's private slogan Wang Wei
Thousands of families show compassion for others. When will the officials return to the sky?
Autumn leaves of Sophora japonica fall into the palace, and orchestral strings are played in the pool.
Home is tied to Wei.
The clear river flows slowly through the bushes like my chariot.
I became a traveling companion and went home with the birds at dusk.
An abandoned city wall is above an old ferry, and the autumn sunset drowns the peaks.
In a distant place, next to Songshan Mountain, I will close my door and get peace.
A letter to health Commissioner Li
Towering mountains, towering trees, cuckoo singing in the depths of Qian Shan.
The spring rain in the mountains has not stopped all night, and the trees on the treetops are spring.
Han women work hard to weave taxes, while Ba people rarely compete for fields.
I hope you will carry forward Wen Weng's achievements, make persistent efforts and forge ahead.
A letter from my cabin in Wangchuan to Pei Di Wang Wei.
The mountain is cold and blue now, and the autumn water has flowed for a day.
At the door of my thatched cottage, leaning on my cane, I listened to the cicadas singing in the evening breeze.
Sunset lingers at the ferry, and the smoke from supper rises from the house.
Oh, when will I make a wish to the great hermit again and sing a wild poem under five willows? .
Qingxi Wangwei
I have sailed the Huanghua River.
It is carried by the river of a green stream.
10,000 laps over the mountains.
On a journey of less than thirty miles.
The rapids buzzed on the piled rocks.
But in the dense pine forest, the light becomes dim.
The surface of the inlet swings with the angle of the nut.
Weeds are overgrown on the river bank.
Deep down in my heart, I have always been pure.
Like this clear water.
Oh, stay on the wide, flat rock.
Drop the fishing line forever! .