Reflections on the night tour in Pujiang
Color training flies over the embankment,
Microwave caresses the foggy side.
All the noise is dust,
Penglai stars and moons sigh.
In the same year, Yong 'an had the Chronicle of Pujiang High-rise Poems.
I sent a boat to the lake to sleepwalk. According to the hacker, I fell in love with the last autumn.
There are thousands of robberies on the walls of couplets, and waves and shadows gather on the first floor.
It reflects that a person can be cynical, but he is so worried about his job.
Holding a cup, standing beside Hong Fei, swallowing the wind and singing sadness.
Liu Yaoling Pujiang Wudu
The fog is early, and there is no autumn in my eyes. How many pedestrians are in such a hurry that even a boat is vaguely visible. Why does the boat look around and swing north and south? Jude left Jude like a tide, like water, and it was not moved in a hurry.
Death is hard, but who can weave chaos? It's the bow again, lonely in the east. I know that my mind is unfinished, and there is a flute outside. Worry about everything, grow old and grow old.