"Lanling King·Liu"
Song Dynasty: Zhou Bangyan
The willows are straight, and the smoke is green. On the Sui Embankment, I have seen it several times, and the water is floating in the water to see people off. When I come to see my motherland, who knows the tired guest in Beijing? Changting Road, every year, should have more than a thousand feet of flexible strips.
Looking for old traces leisurely, drinking wine while mourning, leaving the table under the light of the lamp. Pear blossom and elm fire promote cold food. I am worried that the wind is fast with an arrow, and the waves are warm with half a pole. I turn around and count the posts after a long journey, looking at people in the north.
Sadness and hatred piled up! Farewell to the lake, the lake is silent, the setting sun is slowly rising and the spring is endless. Reading the moon and pavilion, holding hands, listening to the flute on the exposed bridge. Thinking about the past is like a dream, with tears falling secretly.
Translation:
The willow shade fell straight down at noon, and in the mist, the willow branches swayed in the wind. On the ancient Sui embankment, I have seen catkins flying many times, sending people away in a hurry. Every time I go up to the high platform and look out at my hometown, Hangzhou is separated by mountains and rivers. Living in the capital makes me tired, but who knows the pain in my heart? On the road to this ten-mile long pavilion, "I" broke off thousands of willow branches, but they always sent them to others year after year.
"I" took advantage of my free time to go to the suburbs, originally to look for the whereabouts of the past, but unexpectedly I met a banquet to bid farewell to friends. The lights were shining, "I" raised my wine glass, and sad music floated in the air. The pear blossoms next to the inn are already in full bloom, reminding "me" that the Cold Food Festival is coming, and people will use the firewood from elms and willows. "I" watched with melancholy as the boat left like an arrow. Shao Gong's bamboo pole was inserted into the warm water waves and pushed forward frequently. When the guests on the boat turned around to look at each other, the inn was far behind, leaving the melancholy capital city. He wanted to take another look at "me" in Tianbei, but found that it was already hazy.
"I" am very miserable when I am alone, with millions of accumulated sorrows and hatreds. The bank of the farewell river was winding and winding, and the fort at the ferry was silent. The spring scenery is getting stronger day by day, and the setting sun hangs in the sky. I can't help but think of that time we held hands together and played in the waterside pavilion under the moonlight. We were together on the dew-filled bridge, listening to someone playing the flute until the end of the song... Alas, recalling the past is like a big dream. "I" kept crying secretly.
"Congratulations to the Bridegroom·Nine Days"
Song Dynasty: Liu Kezhuang
The sky is deep and dark. More Nakan, slanting wind and drizzle, causing chaos and sorrow. Laoyan has always been empty-handed, relying on tall buildings hundreds of feet high. Look at the vastness and the autumn scenery of thousands of cliffs. The tears of the white-haired scholar in Shenzhou are desolate and do not fall towards Niu Mountain. Chasing the past will leave no trace. ?
The young man is proud of Lingyun Pen. Up to now, the spring beauty has faded, and I am filled with desolation. I often hate that people in the world have few new ideas and love to talk about the Southern Dynasties. Take out the broken hats every year. If you live up to the wine of yellow flowers, if you are afraid of yellow flowers, you will laugh at people's calmness. Go to Hongbei, and the sun will disappear in the west.
Translation:
The overcast sky was dark, intertwined with slanting wind and drizzle. It's really unbearable. My heart is in turmoil, and I'm woven with thousands of worries. All my life, I have always liked to climb high and look out over the sea. Fortunately, the buildings are now hundreds of feet high. Looking around, thousands of mountains and valleys are all reflected in the autumn colors. I am broad-minded and full of affection. Although he is just an ordinary white-haired scholar, the tears he sheds are always for the land of China. He will never cry sadly for his short life like the ancients who once climbed Niushan Mountain. Recalling the past glory, disgrace, rise and fall, all traces have been lost.
When I was a young man, I was in my prime, angry and bullfighting, thinking that I was carrying Lingyun Jianbi. Now my talent has withered like spring flowers, leaving only a feeling of depression and loneliness. I often resent that the world has too few new ideas and only likes to talk about the old and crazy things of the literati in the Southern Dynasties. Whenever I recite poems on the Double Ninth Festival, I always mention the interesting story of Meng Jia losing his hat, which makes people feel a little bored. If you don't drink in front of the chrysanthemum, I'm afraid the chrysanthemum will laugh at you for being too lonely. I saw only swan geese flying north, and a dim sunset gradually sank to the west.
"Cherishing the Red Clothes·Wuxing Lotus"
Song Dynasty: Jiang Kui
Pillow with mat to invite the coolness, play harp and book to change the day, and feel weak after sleeping. Sprinkle the ice spring finely and break the sweet green with a knife. The wall calls for wine, who asks for information, the poet in the south of the city. In silence, tall willows and late cicadas tell the news of the west wind.
On the watery road of Hongliang, the waves of fish blow the fragrance, and the red clothes are half in disarray. Weizhou is trying to look forward, and the homeland is far to the north. It's a pity that beauty can't travel outside Liubiansha. When asked about the same poem, thirty-six autumn colors?
Translation:
Every day I enjoy the cool air on the bamboo pillow mat, play the piano and read to pass the time. Even when I wake up, I feel tired and weak. Wash them carefully with spring water, and cut the fresh and sweet fruits with a sharp knife. I arrange my life carefully every day, but I am lonelier than Du Fu. I can't hold a bottle of wine across the wall. Who will come to greet me? I am not that poet in the south of the city. The loneliness and desolation at home, the slightly cold west wind, the fallen willow trees, and the whining old cicadas all tell me that autumn has arrived.
The arched bridge in front of us is like the moon, the lake embankment is long, fish are swimming with the waves, the lake is fragrant, but half of the lotus flowers have withered and turned yellow. We tied the boat to the shore and looked at our hometown in the distance, in the vast north of the sky. It's a pity that we can't visit this waterfront and sandy beach with the beauties of the past. I want to ask when we can enjoy the autumn scenery of the water town, lakes and ponds in front of us?
"Dongxi Farewell to Doctor Duan of Jizhou"
Tang Dynasty: Fang Qian
The front mountain contains distant greenery, which is listed in the window. When no one comes, who will be with you? ?
The coolness follows the rain of lotus leaves, and the summer escapes from the wicker wind. How can it be said that there is a long silence? There is a great public in the future.
"Dongxi Farewell to Doctor Duan of Jizhou"
Tang Dynasty: Fang Qian
The front mountain contains distant greenery, which is listed in the window. When no one comes, who will be with you? ?
The coolness follows the rain of lotus leaves, and the summer escapes from the wicker wind. How can it be said that there is a long silence, and there is a great public in the future.
About the author: Fang Qian
Fang Qian (809-888), named Xiongfei and Xuanying, was a native of Qingxi, Muzhou (now Chun'an). He is good at rhythmic poetry, which is clear and compact, and contains many aphorisms. Some of his poems reflect social turmoil and sympathize with the people's suffering; some express his feelings about not being able to appreciate his talents and his attempts to gain fame. In the first year of Wende (888), Fang Qianke died in Kuaiji and was buried in Tongjiang. His disciples discussed his virtues with each other and gave him the posthumous title "Mr. Xuanying". They also collected more than 370 of his poems and compiled them into "Fang Qian's Poetry Collection" to be handed down to the world. "Complete Poems of the Tang Dynasty" compiles 348 poems by Fang Qian in 6 volumes. During the Jingyou period of the Song Dynasty, Fan Zhongyan guarded Muzhou and painted a portrait of Fang Gan to be displayed in Yanling Temple.
Inscribed on the creation of Wei Zen Master's Academy
Tang Dynasty: Zhang Hu
After smelling the night fragrance, my eyes were covered with silence. Shining on the bamboo lanterns and snow, wearing clouds and moon to wear clothes. ?
The thatched cottage is sparse and broken, and there are few old friends in Jiangsi. I just remember the rain in the south of the Yangtze River and the spring breeze returning alone.
About the author: Zhang Hu
Zhang Hu, courtesy name Chengji, was born in Qinghe, Xingtai, and was a famous poet in the Tang Dynasty. Born in the famous Zhang family in Qinghe, he has a distinguished family background. He is called Mr. Zhang and has the reputation of "a famous person in the country". Zhang Hu made outstanding achievements in poetry creation throughout his life. "The motherland is three thousand miles away, and she has been in the palace for twenty years." This is why Zhang Hu got his name. "Complete Poems of the Tang Dynasty" contains 349 of his poems.
"Xixi"
Tang Dynasty: Li Shangyin
It is good to be close to Guo Xixi, who can beat the wine pot. Singing bitterly to guard against Liu Yun, crying too much to fear Yang Zhu. ?
Wild cranes follow the gentleman, and cold pines bow to the doctor. The end of the world is always full of sickness, but silence is better than joy.
About the author: Li Shangyin
Li Shangyin, courtesy name Yishan, nicknamed Yuxi (Xi) Sheng and Fan Nansheng, is a famous poet in the Tang Dynasty. He was born in Qinyang, Hanoi (now Jiaozuo City, Henan Province). In Xingyang, Zhengzhou. He is good at poetry writing, and his parallel prose has high literary value. He is one of the most outstanding poets in the late Tang Dynasty. Together with Du Mu, he is called "Xiao Li Du", and together with Wen Tingyun, he is called "Wen Li". Cheng Shi and Wen Tingyun have similar styles, and they are all ranked sixteenth in their families, so they are called the "Thirty-Sixth Body". His poems are novel in conception and beautiful in style, especially some love poems and untitled poems, which are sentimental, beautiful and moving, and are widely read. However, some poems are too obscure and difficult to understand. There is a saying that "poets always love Xikun and hate that no one writes Zheng Jian." Because he was caught in the partisan struggle between Niu and Li, he was very frustrated in his life. After his death, he was buried in his hometown Qinyang (now the junction of Qinyang and Boai County, Jiaozuo City, Henan Province). The works are included in "Li Yishan's Collected Poems".