On a pure morning, near the ancient temple, the early sunshine points to the treetops.
A winding path leads to a hidden place, and the Buddhist temple is surrounded by branches and flowers.
Here, birds live in the mountain light, and people's hearts feel quiet in the pond.
All is silent here, but the bell is ringing.
Bai Juyi's "Jing Hua Yuan"
Sitting in the mirror in the morning, you are half sick.
Whoever talks about love and current affairs is not considered a noble person.
Three temples are out of favor and abandoned, and nine temples are doomed to fall.
Now I have to divide my income, and I still wear two rounds of silver turtles and Zhu on my waist.