How many literati, moved by it, sighed by it, and left many immortal chapters and poems:
After a thousand years of summer harvest, the breeze sets off the sunset glow.
The wild temple is divided into sunny trees, and the mountain pavilion crosses the sunset.
I travel all over the peaks for the sunset glow, and I am tired of looking for fried tea and throwing it into the wild temple.
Sunset, infinitely beautiful, only near dusk.
Outside the setting sun, 10,000 points west of Western jackdaw, flowing water around the lonely village.
The mountain reflects the setting sun and the sky meets the water, and the grass is ruthless, even outside the setting sun.
Sail back to the sunset, with the west wind on your back and the wine flag tilted.
The setting sun shines on the grassland covered with grass and trees. People say that this was once the place where Emperor Wu of Song lived.
Thousands of ships passed by, and no one expected to appear.
When the sun sets, heartbroken people are at the end of the world.
Castle Peak still exists, the sun still rises and the sunset still sets.
On the opening day, the sunset glow is reflected, and the wind is full of autumn waters.
The dragon bears the morning sun, and the phoenix spits the morning glow.
The water is clear and the setting sun is bright.
Green water hides spring days, and green corridors hide sunset clouds.