There are oranges in the residual snow, and the freezing thunder scared the bamboo shoots to sprout.
Homesick at night, disgusting during the New Year.
I used to be a guest in Luoyang, but Ye Fang didn't have to be late.
The newly opened chess hall is a rare and precious table. Bamboo is growing, and the porch window becomes quiet.
The world is cold and the birds are silent.
Spring is misty, and the mountains are still cold.
Take the heart of ten thousand, and compete here.
Among the kings of Qu and He, there was a beautiful woman in the second Han Palace, but the son of heaven didn't know her at first.
Once with the Han ambassador, he married Khan in the country.
Nothing in the world, once lost, is hard to find again.
Although you can kill the painter, what good is it?
As far as the eyes and ears can see, Wan controls Yi Di!
Han Jicheng is all thumbs, but women can't boast.
When Fei Ming shed tears, he sprinkled flowers on the branches;
The wind rises at dusk, and whose house does it wander to?
Beauty is better than life, don't blame the spring breeze.
I was slandered here in Songbird, and every sweet word I heard should be disgusting.
Spring in the mountain city is bitter and lonely, and I always hate it without grace.
Flowers bloom and birds talk, and drunkenness leads to dreams of death, and drunkenness leads to dreams of death and friends with flowers and birds.
Flowers can smile at me, and birds advise me to drink without mercy.
It's beautiful to drink at leisure, so as not to scatter birds.
The barren spirit is all on the bank of Chuze, and Li Sao wakes up haggard and sad.
"Sleeping in Yueyang at night" lies on the clock in Yueyang City, tied with a boat under the tree in Yueyang City.
Look at the bright moon in Jiang Lai, with boundless clouds and water.
In the middle of the night, Jiang Yue found Hui, and the water man song month returned;
I haven't heard the sound for a long time, and the canoe flies away.
"Thrushcross Bird" moves at will, and the flowers are red and purple.
Only then did I understand that listening to the cry of the thrush locked in a golden cage is far less than singing leisurely in the forest. Source: http://www.shigeku.org/xlib/lingshidao/gushi/songdai.htm # 21China Poetry Library.