Who has a sad poem?

Li Qingzhao (1084—1151? )No. Yi 'an lay man. This talented woman writer is unique among many poets in the Song Dynasty. Voice Slow is a masterpiece in her later years, which has been praised by people all the time. It is an eternal swan song! "A Cut of Plum" is fragrant and moist. Gently untie Luo Shang and go to Lan alone. Who sent the brocade book? The word goose returns, and the moon is full of the west building. Flowers from Shui Piao to water, one kind of lovesickness, two places of leisure. There is no way to eliminate this situation, only frown and mind. "Like a dream" Last night, the rain suddenly dispersed. Deep sleep won't leave a hangover. Asked the shutter man, he said, "Haitang is still there." You know what? You know what? It should be green, fat and thin! The voice is searching slowly, cold and desolate, sad and miserable. It's the hardest to stop breathing when it's warm and cold. Three glasses and two glasses of wine, how can you beat him? It's late and urgent! Guo Yan is very sad, but this is an old acquaintance. Yellow flowers were piled all over the floor, withered and damaged. Who can pick them now? Looking out the window, how can a person be dark? Indus is drizzling, and at dusk, it is falling. This time, what a sad sentence? Drunk flowers and cloudy fog make the clouds sad forever, and the brain will sell golden beasts. The festival is also a double ninth festival, and the jade pillow gauze kitchen is half cold at night. Dongli drinks until dusk, and faint chrysanthemum fragrance overflows his sleeves. Mo Tao doesn't forget me, the curtain rolls west wind, and people are thinner than yellow flowers. Supplement: Yan Shu's work "Huanxisha" has always been young and limited, and it is easy to fall in love with leisure and separation, and there is no frequent speech at the banquet. It is better to pity the people in front of you than to drink a glass of wine. The weather was old last year. When did the sun set? Helpless, let the flowers fall, but it seems that Yan returns. The fragrant path in the small garden lingers alone. Swallows pass through the heavy curtain in the small pavilion in Huanxisha. In the evening, the red flowers fall into the court, and the music fades into cool waves. In an instant, the wind gave birth to a green curtain, and the raindrops scattered several times, which made people feel sad when they woke up. The trail on the beach is red and sparse, with fragrant suburbs and green, and tall buildings are seen in the shade of trees. It is difficult to express the feeling that the spring breeze has not lifted the ban on flowers. She climbed the tall building and looked down at the sky. The sky was wide and gloomy, and there was no trace of anyone, which made people more sad and haggard. The building is high and the eyes are broken, the sky is far and the clouds are dark, only gaunt. There was a red candle burning in the hall, and the flame was long and short, and there was a bitter tear of acacia.