At the next stop of Beibao Mountain, we meandered under Wangwan and Qingshan, and my boat and I followed the green water until the bank expanded at low tide, and there was no wind stirring my lonely sail. ... night gives way to the ocean of the sun, and the old year melts in freshness. Where is the hometown book? It's on the Luoyang side of the wild goose. The road that tourists have to take extends from Gubei Mountain in Qingqing. The river is rippling, and I just go by boat. The tide rises, flush with the coast, and the river becomes wide and boundless. The wind is blowing, and the direction is not biased. A white sail seems to be hanging on the high river. The red sun was born in the East China Sea, breaking through the dead night and driving away the darkness of the earth. The river is full of warm breath, and spring has entered the old year early. How much I miss my dear hometown, how can I send it home? The geese have crossed the clear sky, please take a letter to Luoyang.
Spring Tour Qiantang Lake Baijuyi Gushan Temple is located in the north of Jiating West, with a flat water surface and low cloud feet. Several early warblers compete for warm trees, and their new swallows peck at the soil in spring. Flowers are more and more attractive, and shallow grass can be without horseshoes. I love the lack of eastward travel of the lake and the white sand embankment under the shadow of Populus davidiana. From the north of Gushan Temple to Jiating West, the spring water on the lake is just flush with the embankment, and the white clouds overlap with the waves on the lake.
Patio sand Qiu Si, withered vines and old trees faint cries, small bridges and flowing water, old roads and west winds and thin horses. When the sun sets, heartbroken people are at the end of the world. Dead vines are wrapped around the old trees, and crows returning to their nests at dusk perch on the branches. Under the small bridge, the water is gurgling, and there are several beside it. On the ancient and desolate road, the autumn wind is bleak, and a tired thin horse carries me forward. The setting sun slowly sets, which is sad.