Go back to spring clothes every day and go home drunk every day.
The butterfly dreams of Wan Li, and the azalea blossoms in the third night of last month.
I want to know why my Jinse has fifty strings, and each string has a youthful interval.
Huayang's spring clouds are hot, and the tortoise shell screen is intoxicating.
Don't be surprised that Han is a butterfly and flew to other flowers.
Alcohol debt is common, and he is 70 years old.
Dust haunts the wandering face, and butterflies make beautiful women.
The autumn wind is sad, and the traveler has not returned. The grass beyond the Great Wall decays first, and the geese in the south of the Yangtze River come late. Lotus has a tender face and new eyebrows. It's sad and heartbreaking to shake it down. Who knows?
The weather pays for this, and it will be blue in June.
The book movement in the old garden has been dead for several years, and Huafachun is only full of mirrors.
Flowers thanked two heartless people and sent the east wind to spring.
The shore willows hang on the leaves, and the window peaches fall thin.
Zhuangzi daydreaming, a saint, was bewitched by butterflies, and cuckoo crowed in the imperial spring.