A poem about a river in winter 1. A poem describing the beautiful scenery along the river in winter.
I don't know if I started spraying water recently, but I suspect it didn't sell after the winter snow. (Zhang Wei: "Early Plum")
I don't know whether the court will open today, but people suspect that Hualin opened the court last night. How to deal with the snow in the garden by Tang Song Wenzhi.
Only then did I see the dark clouds on the ridge and the snow on the rocks, which was shocking. Thousands of bamboo shoots, thousands of jade, thousands of trees and thousands of clouds. Qin Xue by Tang Yuanzhen
The earth is white, the wind is cold, and many snowflakes fall like big hands. Tang Libai mocked Li Yangwang for refusing to drink.
Tonight is winter, and tomorrow is old. (Dong Sigong: "Shou Sui")
Children are neighbors in the snow in winter, and fools on the shore are precious. (Lu You: Autumn in the Suburb)
Hearing the wind blowing through the window, Zhu Cong shook the window, pushed open the door and saw the snow-capped mountains full of mountains. Tang Wang Wei's Memories of Hu Jushi's Snow House on a Winter Night
Every winter, from the post office in Handan to Sunday, I bring my knee lamp. (Bai Juyi: Homesickness from Winter to Day and Night)
Cold wind destroys trees and frost turns green. Jiao Zhongqing's Ancient Poems in Han Yuefu
The cold weather makes the days short and the wind and waves calm. Tang Du Fu's Nostalgia in Public Security
When winter came, all the flowers disappeared. (Chen Yi: "Mei")
At dusk, suddenly snowflakes are dancing in the wind. DuDu Fu DuXue.
The moon shines on the snow, and the north wind is strong and sad. Xie Lingyun, At the Age of Years in Southern Dynasties and Song Dynasty
Ming Sheng plays autumn wind and buys wine to fly winter snow. (Wang Wei: "Four Qi Poems")
The south neighbor is even more unforgettable, and the winter cloth has not been redeemed. (Lu You: The Storm on October 28th)
It's sad at the end of the year, and it snows. There is no hope in the ear, but nothing in the eye. Tao Jin Yuanming's "Gui Mao's Works in Mid-December and His Brother's Respect"
There are no birds flying over those mountains, and there are no traces of people in those paths. A boat on the river, a fisherman wearing his webworm moth; Fishing alone is not afraid of snow and ice. Liu Tang Zongyuan's Jiang Xue
Just like this winter, we didn't stop the soldiers west of Hangukou from enlisting. (Du Fu: Military Vehicle Shop)
In the autumn moon, Yangming Creek, Dongling Lane, Han Songmei. (Tao Yuanming: Four Seasons)
The air difference of salting can be simulated, but if the catkins are because of the wind. Xie Jin Dao Yun's Snow Poems
First frost is in rags, and his fingers can't be tied straight. Tang Du Fu's Singing 500 Words from Beijing to Fengxian
Who cut the snow on the flat ground into smallpox? Yu's two Li Hua poems
The underwater sound is swallowed up by the ice, and the sand road in the snow is flat. Don Liu Changqing's reward for Zhang Xia's hard work on his way back to the state on a snowy night.
It is cold and blue, and the north wind is called withered mulberry. There is no crack in the thick ice, and there is cold light in a short day. Ode to Bitterness and Cold by Tang Meng Jiao
The days and personnel change rapidly every day, and then the winter solstice, after the winter solstice, after the weather gets warmer, spring comes back. (Du Fu: "Xiaozhi")
The setting sun shines thinly on the bamboo and the snow is scattered in the mountains. Yi "Chu Zhu Shu Shu Zi Qian Yuan Wai Shi Lang County"
If it is not cold in winter, why can you see cold in spring? It's harsh and bleak. Tang Luwen's Meng Dong Pu Jin Guan He Zuo Ting
Yanshan snowflakes were as big as seats, blowing down XuanYuanTai. Popular in the North by Tang Li Bai
A vine path is green, and Wan Xuefeng is sunny. Winter Returning to Laoshan by Tang Li Bai
Clouds and gulls dance, and geese fly against the wind. Tang Du Fu's "Sending Grandson Home on Winter Night"
2. The sentences describing rivers in spring, summer, autumn and winter are sentences, not poems.
1. A passage describing summer In July, the sun hung like a fireball in the blue sky, and the clouds seemed to be melted by the sun and disappeared without a trace.
Spring goes with the falling flowers, and summer comes with green leaves in the warm wind. The early summer sun shines through the dense branches and leaves, and the ground is covered with shiny spots the size of copper coins.
The wind blows with a slight warmth, and cuckoos sing from time to time. It is telling us: "Spring is over." Grass, reeds and red, white and purple wildflowers are steamed by the fiery red sun hanging high in the air, and the air is filled with sweet and intoxicated breath.
In early summer, all kinds of wild flowers are in full bloom, red, purple, pink and yellow, like bright spots embroidered on green carpets; Crowds of bees are busy among the flowers, sucking the stamens and flying around with difficulty. In midsummer, it is so hot that even dragonflies only dare to fly near the shade, as if they were afraid that the sun would burn their wings.
There is not a cloud in the air, there is not a wind, there is a scorching sun overhead, and all the trees are standing there listlessly and lazily. In midsummer July, there is not a cloud in the blue sky. The sun is scorching the earth, the water in the river is boiling hot, and the soil in the field is smoking.
Under the scorching sun, on both sides of the road, ripe grains bent down and lowered their heads in the heat. Grasshoppers, like grass leaves, make a weak and noisy sound in wheat fields and rye fields, among the reeds on the shore.
The sun is like a fireball of the boss, the light is burning, the road surface is scorched by the scorching sun, and a pile of white smoke is stepped on. It's sweltering and there's not a breath of wind. The thick air seems to have solidified.
The whole city is like a burnt-out brick kiln, which makes people breathless. Dogs lie prone on the ground with bright red tongues, and mules and horses have particularly large nostrils.
Flaming parachutes are hanging high in the air, so hot that fish in the river dare not surface and birds dare not fly out of the mountains. Even the dogs in the village just stick out their tongues and gasp endlessly. That day, it was terribly hot.
As soon as the sun came out, the ground was already on fire, and some gray gases, like clouds, like Feiyun, like fog, like fog, floated low in the air, making people feel breathless. It was a long summer without rain, and the old loach in the field was turned white by the scorching sun. The stream near the village dropped several inches, and the stones above the water suddenly became bigger.
I don't know where the bird went; The vegetation is dejected and despondent, as if dying; Only cicadas keep chirping in the branches; It's really breaking gongs and drums to cheer for the scorching sun! The willow trees in the street seem to be sick, and the leaves are hanging with dust and rolling on the branches, and the branches are still. There is white light on the road, and the vendors dare not shout. The plexiglass signboard at the door of the store seems to have been sunburned.
The paragraph describing winter is very cold, and there are children in the hall. Juzi unloaded in the spring has been put in the carriage.
Now, I have moved it out, scrubbed it clean and replaced it with new pink paper and snow-white paper. When you lie in bed, you look tight and comfortable, as if there is an extra layer of protection in your life.
The family sat together, with lovely lights. The bed was removed and covered with straw.
It was a sunny day to wash and dry books. The curtains of Xiabu are hung in the yard, and summer is far away.
Straw is packed in a cloth cover, which is rough and as big as a bed. Covered with straw, it is warm and fragrant, which makes people feel happy.
But it's still cold. Winter in the south is worse than that in the north, and there is no fire at home.
In the evening, I took off my cotton-padded jacket, got into the cold bed, got up early and put on my cold cotton-padded jacket and trousers. The weather is really cold. After the winter vacation, you can sleep in.
The cotton-padded clothes have been dried on the copper stove, and it is not very difficult to get up. Especially cotton shoes are so hot that they are really comfortable to wear.
Few people there have iron stoves that burn coal. General heating, copper stove, foot stove, hand stove.
The footstool is made of brass and has a perforated cover. What is burned inside is coarse bran.
Filled with rough chaff, the unfinished Chai Lu fire (where we burned reeds, it was called "Chai Lu") shoveled a few red ashes, and then covered it. Coarse chaff led, take a smoke, and soon, the smoke is gone, so you can cover the furnace cover.
Coarse chaff can be burned slowly for a long time. Old ladies can't live without it.
Every old lady has a foot stove at her feet. The coarse chaff in the footstool is too strong, the air is not enough and the firepower is getting weaker and weaker. So we should dig twice along the fireplace with a poker to loosen the rough chaff and the fire will flourish.
The foot stove warms people. The feet are not cold, and the whole body is not cold.
The burnt bran smells good, too. Imitating Japanese haiku, you can write a poem: "In winter, the foot stove burns chaff."
Hand stoves are smaller than foot stoves, mostly made of white copper, and exquisite ones are made of silver. The furnace cover is not a round hole, but mostly a hollow pine, bamboo and plum blossom pattern.
The hand stove is very small, and in the middle is a charcoal stick (coal is ground into fine powder, and a little honey is added to make a cake), which is led by a paper coal head. A piece of charcoal can be used for one day.
There are black vegetables, frozen tofu and pickles soup in winter. Black vegetables lie flat on the ground, and people in the south of the Yangtze River call them "bitter vegetables". This dish tastes a little bitter.
My grandmother dug a small piece of land in the back garden and planted black vegetables. After first frost, the leaves are purple, and the taste is bitter and sweet. Black vegetables cooked with "crab oil" taste hard to compare.
"Crab oil" is made by cooking big crabs, removing meat and adding lard. Put it in a bowl in the sea and solidify into crab jelly, which can be eaten for a winter and will not be bad for a long time. After tofu is frozen, I don't know why it is honeycomb.
Melt, cut into small pieces and cook with fresh meat, bacon, beef, dried rice or kimchi. Put pepper and green garlic in the frozen tofu.
There used to be no Chinese cabbage in the north, only "green vegetables". Chinese cabbage is shipped from Shandong, euphemistically called "soybean sprouts", which is very expensive.
"Green vegetables" are as big as rape and two feet high. Every family eats it all year round. Kimchi is pickled with green vegetables.
It snows on cloudy days and drinks pickles soup. Winter games: kicking shuttlecock, catching children and playing carefree.
"Xiaoyao" means that on a square piece of white paper, two spiral paths are printed on the wood block, and the Eight Immortals, horses, rabbits, carp and shrimps are printed between the two paths. There are two of everything, arranged randomly, without order. When playing, each side takes copper coins or chess as dice and rolls dice. If the dice is five o'clock, count from "horse" and go forward five steps. If it is a rabbit, you can find another rabbit from the inner ring and bet the dice on it.
The next round begins, counting from the rabbits in the inner circle. If it is six o'clock, take six steps.
3. Sentences describing rivers in winter
In winter, many small animals hibernate, but the river still doesn't sleep. The river is covered with a layer of ice, so people and fish can't stand the cold in winter any longer.
In winter, after the cold wind, the river is covered with a thin layer of ice, and snowflakes fall from the sky, decorating the river bank with silver. The stones and haystacks on the shore are all dressed in new clothes, some like puppies, some like a litter of kittens, and some like frogs ... Children make snowmen and have snowball fights on the shore, and sprinkle laughter on both sides of the river, which makes the river full of vitality in winter.
In winter, the naughty north wind roared in. Shiny snowflakes are blooming all over the sky, covering the river with silver sand, covering the land on both sides with thick quilts and putting white coats on weeping willows. The river is frozen, and children often go there to play. The river is still full of laughter.
4. The poetic image of Gu Cheng's River in Winter
Time: Modern and Contemporary Author: Gu Cheng's Works: I am the son of dusk Content:-Written in the past unfortunate years, I was the son of dusk, and I woke up under the golden canopy 32313353236313431363533E59B9. +03337626238 Happy crying, sad laughing, I was betrayed, how much did I sell. Who knows that only the moon slipped from my fingers, freezing my blood-it was as soft as counterfeit money and buried my heart and name. The soul I long to shake is only whipped out, and rows of fields are constantly wet. The rift valley dried by the sun spreads in my memory, but the spinnaker still wants to bring me back to the light like a fan-shaped sandbar sea. With the toothless wind combing the pale and curly iron cangue with dark clouds, I quickly closed it and tried to rob me to heaven. However, as a slave, I belong to the night, an inviolable private property, just as teeth firmly belong to gums. I was embedded in a mill, and I squeezed time in the shadows. Crushing the phosphorus fire, the earth began to faint and change its voice. Axis recites the small window cut on the bluestone of the Bible. Because of repetition, it has become a row of fireflies that may be lost. It lit up my tears. This is the eye of the star around the arm. Like a delicate silver bracelet, my heavy eyes were finally raised, but she lowered her pale eyelids. I am the son of dusk, and I am in love with the daughter of Oriental Dawn, but I can only stare and can't speak. There is a huge corpse bed in the middle of the night. In spring, I gently waved my handkerchief. In spring, I waved my hand gently. Should I leave or come back right away? No, nothing, nothing, just like a flower falling into the water, just like dew on a flower ... only shadows can understand, only wind energy can understand, only butterflies frightened by sighs are still flying in the flower's heart ... "Far and Near" Gu Cheng, look at me for a while, and look at the clouds for a while. I think you're looking at me from a distance. When you look at the cloud, it is very close. A generation of Gu Cheng night gave me black eyes, but I used them to look for light. Hutong Old Town Hutong is curved and long, with no doors or windows. I took an old key and knocked on the thick wall. Mountain Shadow Gu Cheng Mountain Shadow shows an ancient warrior leading a fine horse path and disappearing around. He has become a relief and a different story. Today is like a devil, and tomorrow is an angel's "faint hope". I am surrounded by countless pebbles that cannot hatch. Blue rivers and streams crawl to swallow us and quietly spit us out. There is nothing to do but hope that the grass can prolong its shadow. "Rain line" clouds, gray can no longer be washed clean. Let's open the umbrella and simply paint the sky black. In the slowly drifting night, there are two pairs of binary stars that seem to have no orbits, but they are far and near. Bubbles, two free bubbles rise from the depths of the dream sea. The hazy silver fog dissipated in the breeze. I hold on to you like a child in vain. The sky is gray, the roads are gray, the buildings are gray, and the rain is gray. Two children walked through the ashes, one bright red and the other light green. The bird quickly turned to the teenager in the high wind and picked up a penny vine, which extended from fantasy. The back of the contact wave bulges due to contraction. I walked through the towering rocks towards the coast. "Go ahead, I know all the languages in the world." The sea smiled and showed me swimming birds, flying fish and singing beaches, but said nothing to this eternal question. Case, the night quietly approached like a group of masked men, and then walked away. I lost my dream. There is only the smallest penny left in my pocket. "I was robbed." I told the sun that the sun chased it all night and was chased by another group of nights. In the evening light, you pursed your lips tightly: "There is only a quarter of an hour left." In other words, there is a tragedy now. "It will be ten years, a hundred years!" "Thousands of miles apart, Wan Li!" Suddenly you smiled naughtily, revealing your real age. "I forgot a sentence." "Well, I must have forgotten a sentence." We never thought of it, but the sun has quietly rested. Blinking at that wrong age produced this illusion. I firmly believe that I can't take my eyes off the rainbow swimming in the fountain and look at the pedestrians gently. I became a snake shadow in the blink of an eye. When the clock sat quietly in the church, I blinked, and it turned into a deep well red flower blooming on the screen, excitedly welcoming the spring breeze. I blinked-in order to believe that my eyes were wide open, it became a bloody fantasy of life. I put my vision and dream in a long and narrow shell, and the canopy made of willow branches circled around the long sound of Xia Chan, tightening the mast rope, and the wind blew the sails of the morning mist. I set sail aimlessly, rippling in the blue sky, letting the waterfall of the sun wash my skin black. The sun is my tracker, and it pulls me. I walked 12 hours with a strong light rope step by step. I was tossed about by the wind, and the sun disappeared into the dusk. Night arrival. I sailed into the harbor of the Milky Way, and thousands of stars watched me leave the new moon-the golden anchor, the dawn of the ocean, and the clouds of icebergs "thundering"-lightning and thunder. where am I going? The universe is so boundless, it is woven into a cradle with golden wheat straw, and my inspiration and heart are in it. Wheels with buttons let time drag on to meet the world. The wheels ran over the grass of thyme and wild chrysanthemum. Crickets welcome me and shake my strings. I will melt my hope into flowers, and the night will be like a valley, and the day will be like a mountain peak. Sleep! When I close my eyes, the world is nothing to me. The horse of time was exhausted, and the yellow-tailed Taiping bird made a nest in my car. I still want to travel all over the world-deserts, forests and remote corners. The sun bakes the earth like a piece of bread, I walk barefoot, and I print my footprints all over the earth like a stamp and integrate into my life. I want to sing a human song in the universe after one thousand years. In early summer, the dark clouds gradually thinned out. I jumped out of the round window of the moon, jumped over the beautiful and quiet stagnant water and returned to the village. On the fresh mud wall, grass began to grow. Every wooden door is as brand-new and clean as acacia flowers. Enough is as silent as a blank envelope. Don't trust me, and don't trust others to put acacia flowers that haven't woken up in pairs of knockers.
5. The poetic image of Gu Cheng's River in Winter
Time: Modern and Contemporary Author: Gu Cheng's Works: I am the son of dusk Content:-Written in the past unfortunate years, I was the son of dusk, and I woke up under the golden canopy 32313353236313431363533E59B9. Happy crying and sad laughing were betrayed by the long skirt hanging down at night. How much did I sell? Who knows that only the moon slipped from my fingers and made my blood freeze-it was a skin color as soft as counterfeit money and dirt, which buried my heart and name. I am eager to shock the soul only to be whipped out, and rows of fields are constantly wet. The rift valley dried by the sun spreads in my memory, but the spinnaker still wants to bring me back to the light like a fan-shaped sandbar sea. With the toothless wind combing the pale and curly iron cangue with dark clouds, I quickly closed it and tried to rob me to heaven. However, as a slave, I belong to the night, an inviolable private property, just as teeth firmly belong to gums. I was embedded in a mill, and I squeezed time in the shadows. Crushing the phosphorus fire, the earth began to dizzy, and the earth began to recite the small window carved on the bluestone of the Bible. Because of repetition, it became a row of fireflies that might be lost, which lit up my tears. This is the eye of the morning star around her arm, like a beautiful silver bracelet. My heavy eyes were finally raised, but her pale eyelids fell down. I am the son of dusk and fall in love with the daughter of Oriental Dawn, but I can't talk about the giant corpse bed in the middle of the night. In spring, I gently waved my handkerchief. No, nothing, nothing, just like a flower falling into the water, just like dew on a flower ... only shadows can understand, only wind energy can understand, only butterflies frightened by sighs are still flying in the flower's heart ... "Far and Near" Gu Cheng, look at me for a while, and look at the clouds for a while. I think you're looking at me from a distance. When you look at the cloud, it is very close. A generation of Gu Cheng gave me black eyes, but I used them to look for light. Hutong Old Town Hutong is curved and long, with no doors or windows. I took an old key and knocked on the thick wall. Mountain Shadow Gu Cheng Mountain Shadow shows the road where ancient warriors led their horses to disappear everywhere. He became a kind of liberation and all kinds of stories. Today it is like a devil, tomorrow it is an angel. Neither I nor countless people can. The hatched pebbles are piled together, and the blue rivers and streams crawl to swallow us and quietly spit us out. In addition to hoping that the grass can prolong its shadow, the rain has gone and the gray ones can no longer be washed clean. Let's open the umbrella and simply paint the sky black. In the slowly drifting night, the two pairs of binary stars seem to have no fixed orbits, but they are far and near. Bubbles, two free bubbles rise from the depths of the dream sea. The hazy silver fog dissipated in the breeze. I clung to the blurred one like a child. You tried in vain to bring bubbles back to the real world. I feel that the sky is gray, the road is gray and the building is gray. Dusty, walking through the ashes, two children, one red and one light green. The bird quickly turned to the teenager in the high wind to pick up a penny vine, which was stretched out because of fantasy. The back of the waves rises because of contraction. Avoiding crossing the standing rocks, I walked to the coast. You said I knew the world languages. The sea told me with a smile that the beach with birds, flying fish and singing is eternal. Suspicion silent "case" The night approached quietly like a group of masked men, and then walked away. I lost my dream. There is only the smallest penny left in my pocket. "I was robbed." I said to the sun, the sun is chasing the night, and it is chased by another group of nights in the sunset. In the evening light, you pursed your lips tightly: "It's only been a quarter of an hour", that is to say, there is a tragedy now. "It will be ten years, a hundred years!" "Thousands of miles apart, Wan Li!" Suddenly you smiled naughtily, revealing your real age. "I forgot a sentence." "Well, I must have forgotten a sentence." We never thought of it, but the sun has quietly rested. Blinking at that wrong age produced this illusion. I firmly believe that I can't take my eyes off the rainbow swimming in the fountain and look at the pedestrians gently. I became a snake shadow in the blink of an eye. When the clock quietly perched in the church, I blinked, and it became a deep well of red flowers, blooming on the screen and welcoming the spring breeze excitedly. In the blink of an eye, I became a bloody fantasy. In order to firmly believe that your eyes are wide open, turn your hallucinations and fantasies into. The dream is placed in a long and narrow shell, and the canopy made of willow branches is still rotating around the long sound of Xia Chan. The wind tightens the mast rope and blows the sails of the morning mist. I set sail aimlessly, rippling in the blue sky, letting the waterfall of sunshine wash my skin black. The sun is my tracker, pulling me through the journey of 12 hours step by step with a strong light rope. I was pushed to the east by the wind, and the sun disappeared in the dusk. When night came, I sailed into the harbor of the Milky Way. Thousands of stars look at me. I left the new moon behind me-the golden anchor day dawned and the sea was full of clouds and icebergs "rumbling"-lightning and thunder, and I went. Oh, the universe is so boundless, woven with golden wheat straw as a cradle, put my inspiration and heart into the buckled wheel, and let time drag on to meet the world. The wheel ran over the grass of thyme and wild chrysanthemum, and the cricket welcomed me and shook my strings. I have turned my hope into a flower, and the night is like a valley and the day is like a peak. Sleep! When I close my eyes, the world is nothing to me. The horse of time was exhausted, and the yellow-tailed Taiping bird made a nest in my car. I still want to travel all over the world-deserts, forests and remote corners. The sun bakes the earth like a loaf of bread. I walk barefoot. I printed my footprints all over the earth like stamps, and they dissolved into my life. I want to sing a human song in the universe after one thousand years. In early summer, the dark clouds gradually thinned out. I jumped out of the round window of the moon, jumped over the beautiful and quiet stagnant water and returned to the village. On the fresh mud wall, grass began to grow. Every wooden door is as brand-new and clean as acacia flowers. Enough is as silent as a blank envelope. Don't trust me, and don't trust others to put acacia flowers that haven't woken up in pairs of knockers, so that the beginning of all stories is full of fragrance and surprise. It's dawn Climb quickly. Walking under the tree, I took off my straw hat and sheath and turned into a pale green cicada. Yes, I will call a rooster, and all the early girls will go to the fields to pick the red cherries left by spring and smile. The sun is shining in the sky and covered by dark clouds, and the film of my soul is washed away by the heavy rain.
6. Poems about rivers
To Jiang (I) Wen/Zhongyuan Stone Man
You are a rushing river.
I am a strong river bank.
On your way to the seaside
I will escort you without regrets.
Small flowers on the shore
I admire your eyes.
Soft swaying weeping willows
I touch your arm.
You leave with a colorful dream.
Don't look back and don't hesitate.
My heart has become a swimming fish.
Long gone with you.
Untitled
Have you ever seen the dry sea?
Have you noticed that the Dead Sea is dying?
Have you ever seen rotten stones?
Have you ever heard the sound of rocks falling into a deep valley on a cliff?
Haiyan is still like this.
Besides, what about us?
Since life cannot last forever
Then let life shine.
Like bees
A few months of career will leave the sweetness behind.
Like grass
Life is too short to be green.
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Tianya Poetry Society [Poetry] If the river also has memories,
Author: yzfuture Date of submission: April 28, 2006 00: 07: 00
If rivers also have memories.
It should remember.
The morning light fell on the drooping willow tree.
The new green soaked the willow buds.
If rivers also have memories.
It should remember.
The sunset glow is bathed in the afterglow of the sunset.
Burn like a fire
If rivers also have memories.
It should be able to remember
Long footprints on the beach
Our image side by side.
If rivers also have memories.
It should have heard it.
Singing of the wind
The sound of your smile
But the running river.
Can you remember all this?
My love, where are you now?
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Go out of the east gate
I want to cross the river,
The river is deep and flat.
I would like to be a double oriole,
Gao Fei returned to his hometown.
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"Don't praise the master" Du Fu
Hundreds of rivers flow eastward every day, and tourists keep coming. I live a miserable life. When will it end?
Praise the public, release the old man and exile him to the country. Still a dusty baby, quite haggard.
Yang is in hand, and the beans are ripe in the rain. It is like a floating cloud, and security can be confined to the north and the south.
When you meet an old friend in a foreign land, write down your mind at the beginning. It is cold when it is long, and cold when it is hungry at the end of the year.
The wind blows the clothes, don't be dark. Ma Si missed the past. When he came back to the bird, he folded his wings.
In ancient times, the ground was scattered and thorns grew in the past. Look at each other and decline, and the source will work hard.
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Goodbye Li Bai
Far away, there is the second daughter in ancient times, in the south of Dongting, the pool of Xiaoxiang.
The sea goes straight down to Wan Li, and no one can say that this is a good thing. The sun is miserable, the clouds are dark,
Orangutans cry smoke, ghosts cry rain. What can I do to make it up to you?
What the imperial treasury is afraid of is loyalty that does not follow. The cloud was so angry that it wanted to roar,
Yao and Shun are also Zen words when they do it. If I lose my official position, the dragon is a fish, the power belongs to the minister, and the mouse is a tiger.
Or Yao was imprisoned and died in prosperity. Nine doubts are similar.
What is a solitary grave with double pupils? Di Zi cried in Lv Yun and went with the wind.
Looking from a distance, I saw the Cangwu mountains. Cangwu landslide, Xiang Shui disappear.
Tears on bamboo can be extinguished.
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Li Bai, a man who doesn't cross the river
The Yellow River comes to Kunlun in the west, roaring Wan Li and touching Longmen. The waves are terrible, Yao Zihao.
Dayu cares about all the rivers, but he doesn't peek at home when he cries. Killing the raging flood, Kyushu began to silkworm hemp.
The downside is that you can't do anything about it. Go crazy,
In the morning, I want to be ridiculous. Others do not hesitate to stop their wives, and the public has no difficulty crossing the river.
Tigers can fight, rivers are difficult to rely on, and men drown and flow to the sea. There are long whales with white teeth like snow-capped mountains,
Father-in-law hangs in the meantime, worrying about not returning.
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7. A passage describing a river in winter
In the cold winter, the goose feather and snow are flying in the air, and the cold wind blows the whistle and shakes the pine trees violently.
You see, large tracts of snowflakes are pressing on pine trees, and the branches of pine trees are covered with thick snow. Snow and snow want to conquer pine trees, but pine trees have defeated snow and snow again and again with tenacious perseverance and cold tolerance.
Listen, there is still a calm river in the distance that interprets the eternity of life, quietly enjoying the awe of nature brought by winter, singing with its unchanging melody, and feeling the myriad changes in the world with its unchanging posture. The unchanging thoughts of people make it so dripping, so thorough and so fascinating. This makes people fear nature and admire the magic of the creator. Everything is made up of the same place.
Wait a minute, in the snowy winter, I can still smell a faint fragrance flooding my whole body with the cold wind, which makes my mind purified again, reminding me that in this depressed world, there are masterpieces of pride and snow, which once again give me the strength to meet the challenges of life. Facing everything, I am not alone.