* * * Looking at the bright moon and crying, it is a red heart, five places, all sick and willing.
The foot of my bed is shining with such bright light. Is it frosty already? Looking up, I found it was moonlight, sinking again, and I suddenly remembered home. (Li Bai: Quiet Night Thinking)
Being in a foreign land, I miss my relatives twice every holiday.
In March, a letter from home is worth a ton of gold.
Where homesickness accumulates, the ends of the earth gather turbulence. The shore is long and the lake is wide, and the sails fall in autumn. Buy wine to the fisherman, and share the fish boat with the lamp. Xiaoxiang should swim alone when he sees a goose.
When * * * cuts candles at the west window, it talks to the rain at dusk.
Wine turns into sorrow, into acacia tears.
You people from my old country, tell me what happened there! Was the plum blossom in full bloom when you passed my window? (Wang Wei's miscellaneous poems)
Under the blue mountain, we meandered forward, and my boat and I followed the green water until the river bank widened at low tide, and there was no wind blowing my lonely sail ... The night now succumbed to the ocean of the sun, and Jiang Chunren was old, so I could finally send my messenger, Yan, back to Luoyang. (Wang Wan: At the foot of Shibei Gushan)
It has been ten frost in Bingzhou, and I miss Xianyang day and night. I crossed the mulberry river for no reason, but I hope Bing is my hometown. (Liu Zao: "Journey to the North")
There are clouds and mist in Kesashg, and the mountains and rivers here are deep. In autumn, the sound of the beach is more urgent and the canyon is overcast. Look at the clouds, cover your eyes, and miss home and raindrops. How to comfort yourself? Thanks to this north window piano.