In the morning, she saw her hair cloud changing in the mirror, but she bravely faced the cold of the moonlight with her evening song. -Li Shangyin Untitled It was a long time before I met her, but it was even longer after we broke up.
Ji Yun is half asleep, and her flowered hat is loose when she walks along the balcony. -Bai Juyi's Song of Eternal Sorrow
A child with unkempt hair and immature face is learning to fish by the river. He is sitting sideways in the grass, and his shadow is set off by weeds. -Hu Lingneng's "Fishing Children"
Because of the soldiers, the husband clung to Mao Peng and his linen clothes were burned. ——? Widows in the mountains of Du Xunhe
Solitary minister frost three thousands of feet, fireworks weighs ten thousand years. ——? Chen's "Injury to Spring, Nothing in the Temple"?
Her cloudy hair is sweet with mist, and her jade-white shoulders are cold in the moonlight. -Du Fu's Moonlit Night
Twisting with melancholy, scratching my head and thinking, the more I scratch my white hair, I can hardly insert a hairpin. -Du Fu's Hope for Spring
The hair is messy and the bun is biased. Love stands at the helm. -Wang Chen's "Fisherman's Word/Fisherman"
White hair three thousands of feet, sorrow like a beard. -Li Bai's Seventeen Poems of Autumn Pu
Interpretation of poetry:
People above the high hall sigh their white hair in the mirror, which is still blue in the morning and white at night.
Women dress up in front of the mirror in the morning, only worrying that the plump bangs will change color and the youthful appearance will disappear. Men can't sleep at night, so they must feel Leng Yue's aggression.
Half-combed with clouds, I just woke up and came down from the altar before dressing, with a wreath askew.
A child with unkempt hair and tender face learned to fish by the river, sitting sideways in the grass, his figure covered by weeds.
When her husband died, she suffered alone in the hut, wearing ramie cloth and her hair was dry and brown.
I am an orphan, worried about the country and the people, my hair is white, and it coincides with the spring flowers, which is even more traumatic.
Hazy, perhaps wet his wife's sideburns; The cold moonlight should reflect the cold jade arm of his wife.
The more I scratch my white hair, the harder it is for me to insert my hair clasp.
My hair is messy and my bun is crooked. I like to stand in front of the rudder with branches full of flowers.
White hair as long as three thousands of feet, it is because of sadness that it grows so long.