The river is raining heavily, the grass is flowing, the mountains are empty, the rain is strange, the mountain rain is about to come, the wind is filling the building, the rain is passing, the sky is blue, the clouds are broken, but I am talking about Bashan. When it rains at night, I lie down late at night and listen to the wind and rain. The heavy rain falls and the white rain is chaotic. Beads jump into the boat, good rain knows the season, the sound of wind and rain comes at night, the Qingming season rains heavily, and the pedestrians on the road want to die. The fallen flowers are independent, the light swifts fly together. Seven or eight stars are outside, two or three o'clock rain in front of the mountain. The cold rain comes across the river at night, Pingming Farewell to Chushan Gu. The clouds are green and ready for rain, the water is sluggish and smokey. The sun rises in the east and rains in the west. It is sunny but there is sunshine and misty rain. In my life, there is no wind or rain, no clear and chilly cicadas. Facing the pavilion at night, the dancing pavilion and singing platform have begun to stop rain showers. They are always swept away by the wind and rain. Angry and angry, I leaned against the railing and the rain stopped. It was already dusk and I was sad alone, with more wind and rain. Green bamboo hats, green coir rain clothes, no need to return in the slanting wind and drizzle. The red building looks cold across the rain. The bead foil floating lantern returns alone. The small building listens to the spring rain all night. The apricot flowers are sold in the deep alley in the Ming Dynasty. You asked about the return date but there is no timetable. The night rain in Bashan swells the autumn pond. How can I cut off the candles from the west window and talk about the rainy night in Bashan? The morning rain in Weicheng has cleared the dust, and the guest house is green and willow-colored. In the past, I went there, and the willows lingered; now I come to think about it, the rain and snow are falling, blowing in the valley wind, and it is overcast and rainy. I lie down at night and listen to the wind and rain, and the iron horse and the glacier fall into my dreams. The street is moistened by the light rain. The color of the grass is like crisp, look far away, but there is no small building. Listen to the spring rain all night, apricot blossoms are sold in the deep alleys in the Ming Dynasty, and the curtains of late autumn are curtained by thousands of rains. The setting sun plays a flute on the balcony, the feng shui is shining, the light is clear, the mountains are empty, the rain is also strange, the green bamboo hats are , green coir raincoat, slanting wind and drizzle do not need to return. Poppy Listening to the Rain by Jiang Jie A young man listens to the rain song upstairs, the tent is dimly lit by red candles. A young man in his prime listens to the rain in a boat. The clouds in the river are low and the wild geese are calling in the west wind. Now I am listening to the rain at the foot of the monk's house, and there are stars on my temples. The joys and sorrows are always ruthless, dripping from one stage to the next. The only thing I won't forget now is the mist of dusk and the spring rain crossing the maple bridge. The rain is strong and the wind is good and evil, but don’t be disgusted by the low thatched cottage. After the rain, the grass is fragrant and the sun is setting. The apricot blossoms are scattered and the swallow mud is fragrant. In the 480 temples of the Southern Dynasty, there were many towers in the mist and rain. Last night it was windy and rainy. Heavy sleep will not eliminate the remaining wine. When I asked the person behind the curtain, I found that Begonia was still the same. Do you know? Do you know? It should be green manure, red sycamores, and drizzle, bit by bit at dusk. This time, how could the sycamore tree be so sad? It rained in the middle of the night. If you don't know how to leave love, you will suffer. Leaf by leaf, sound by sound, the air drips into the sky. The spring tide brings rain in a hurry, and there is no boat crossing the wild crossing. The rain of apricot blossoms makes your clothes wet, and the willow wind blows on your face, which is not cold. . Bursts of winter thunder, summer rain (Yinyu, the word is this), snow, rain and wind, it is the evening of March, the door is closed at dusk, and there is no way to stay in the spring. After the new rain in the empty mountains, the weather comes late in autumn. Cherish that spring is gone, what time will the flowers rain? I can't make up my mind all day long, and my tears are like rain. The curtains are lowered, and the swallows return in the drizzle. During the yellow plum season, it rains every house. There are frogs everywhere in the grassy pond. The jade face is lonely and full of tears. A pear blossom brings rain in spring. The rain hates the clouds and makes me sad. Jiangnan is still called a beauty. ——Wang Yucheng's "Red Lips" Pink butterflies dance across the threshold in pairs, and the curtains are rolled up to let out the rain in the evening. ——Mao Xizhen's "Qing Ping Le" Yu Linling and the chilling cicadas are miserable. Facing Changting at night, the showers have begun to subside. There is no trace of drinking in the capital tent, and the orchid boat urges you to stay in the place of nostalgia. Holding hands and looking into tearful eyes, they were speechless and choked. Thoughts go by, thousands of miles of mist, the dusk is heavy and the sky is vast. Since ancient times, sentimental feelings have hurt parting, and even more embarrassing and neglected Qingqiu Festival. Where will I wake up from my drunkenness tonight? On the bank of willows, with the dawn wind and the waning moon. This passing year should be a time of good times and good scenery. Even if there are thousands of customs, who can tell them? If you ask about leisure time, how much is it? Yichuan Tobacco fills the city. Plum yellow Shiyu. . The wind and rain send spring home, and the flying snow welcomes spring. The cliffs are already covered with hundreds of feet of ice, and there are still beautiful flowers and branches in the spring, and everything is shining. ---------- The ancient poem "Long Song Xing" of Han Dynasty Yuefu I don't know the details. Who cuts out the leaves, the spring breeze in February is like scissors -------- "Ode to the Willows" by He Zhizhang of Tang Dynasty The light rain on the street is as moist as crisp, but the color of grass looks far away but there is no grass up close. The most beneficial thing about spring is the willows that fill the imperial capital - Han Yu of the Tang Dynasty, "Early Spring Presents to Zhang Shiba of the Ministry of Water" A few peach blossoms outside the bamboo are a prophet of the warmth of the spring river. -----------Su Shi of the Song Dynasty, "Two Evening Scenes on the Spring River by Hui Chong" It is easy to recognize the east wind, and it is always spring with a thousand colors and reds------"Spring Day" by Zhu Xi of the Song Dynasty, the clothes are wet The rain of apricot blossoms, the wind from the willows does not blow cold on my face. ---------- "Quatrains" by Monk Zhinan of the Southern Song Dynasty. The wild flowers are gradually charming the eyes, and only the grass in Asakusa has no horse hooves. ―――Bai Juyi "Spring Tour at Qiantang Lake" Birds startling the mountains when the moon rises are singing in the spring stream. ―――――Wang Wei's "Birdsong Stream" The spring tide brings rain late in the evening, and there is no boat crossing the wild river.
――――Wei Yingwu's "Xijian of Chuzhou" An ancient poem describing summer. The lotus leaves touching the sky are infinitely blue, and the lotus flowers reflecting the sun are particularly red――――Yang Wanli's "Walking off from Jingci Temple to see off Lin Zifang at dawn" During the Huangmei season, it rains every house, and there are green grass and ponds everywhere. Frog-------- Zhao Shixiu, Song Dynasty, "A Visitor" There is no need to regret that Fang Fei is gone, Xia Mu is so gloomy and pleasant ----------- Qin Guan, Song Dynasty, "Odd Titles on a Dark Day in March" The reds and purples have turned into dust, and the sound of cuckoo brings the newness of summer---------"Quetrains of Early Summer" by Lu You of the Song Dynasty