Fu Ling didn't shake the gods, and the root of the disease has been calmed down. So beautiful is that there are no children, as long as the husband's eyes are clear.
2. Poet in the Mountain: Lu You Dynasty: Song Dynasty
The grass pavilion leaves clouds, and the stream bridge attracts cranes. I am carefree in my poems, with a quiet mind and a dream of peace. Stone milk keeps dripping, and the fat is loose overnight. The mountains are all fun, not proud officials.
3. Qin poet: Pan Qian Dynasty: Song Dynasty
It's just ordinary fuck. It's different when it comes. At the beginning, the voice of doubt had reached my heart, and I felt the music in the middle. Clear as grass and peaceful as national wind. After listening to it tonight, I was deaf all my life.
4. Poets in the south of the city: Liu Chang Dynasty: Song Dynasty
On the same day, five soldiers of Dragon Boat School unscrewed the pool to learn from Kunming. In recent years, Zen Buddhism has been closed and peaceful for a long time, teaching people to plow in the old fields.
5. "Leisure" poet: Hanwo Dynasty: Tang Dynasty
Gyeonggi has a mysterious taste, and its rhyme is high but not vulgar. The snow and ice in other mountains melted, and the water surged. Shadow re-examines the density of flowers, and a drop of wine is clear. Busy people are often disturbed. They have a peaceful mind.
1. "Goat Tongguan Nostalgia" Time: Yuan Author: Zhang Shanchuan peaks and hills are like gathering, the waves are like anger, Tongguan Road inside and outside the mountains and rivers, overlooking Xijing, which means traveling far away.
Sad Qin and Han dynasties, ten thousand palaces have been made of earth.
Xing, the people are not living, and the people are not living.
2. "Song Xia Sai" era: Tang Author: Chang Jian Jade and Silk Dynasty looks back at the emperor's hometown, Wu Sun does not claim to be king when he returns.
The war has stopped in remote places, and the smoke of the war has gone away, full of the radiance of the sun and the moon.
3. "Sleeping at Wuchang" Author: Tang Hanyang City is far away, and the land wheel is a lonely sail for a day.
Businessmen sleep during the day, know the waves, and boatmen talk at night.
Sanxiang Decline Temple welcomes autumn colors, and my heart goes for three thousand miles, and my homesickness follows the bright moon.
My hometown has been destroyed by the war, and you can hear the sound of gongs and drums.