Liu Yong
Leaning against the dangerous building, the wind is fine, looking forward to spring sorrow, and the sky is dark. In the afterglow of grass and smoke, no one can rely on the meaning of silence.
I plan to get drunk on the map of madness and sing songs for wine, which is strong and tasteless. I don't regret that my belt is getting wider and wider, which makes people haggard for Iraq.
A butterfly in love with flowers
Su Shi
Flowers wither and red apricots are small. Swallows fly, green water people go around. There are few willows blowing on the branches, but there are many herbs in the sea.
Swing inside and outside the wall. The layman in the wall, the beauty in the wall laughs. The laughter faded away, but the passion was ruthlessly annoyed.
A butterfly in love with flowers
Ouyang Xiu (on Feng Yansi)
Who abandoned leisure for a long time? Every spring comes, melancholy remains. I often get sick before spending every day, but I don't care if I look thin in the mirror.
Why do willows on the green and black embankment by the river worry about new things every year? The independent bridge is full of sleeves, and Lin Ping returns to the new moon.
A butterfly in love with flowers
Ouyang Xiu
How deep is the yard? The willow piles up smoke, but the curtain is not heavy. Jade music carving saddle tour smelting place, the building is not high, look at Zhangtai Road.
March storm, closing at dusk, not planning to stay in spring. Tears ask flowers silently, and red flies over the swing.
A butterfly in love with flowers
Yan Shu
The threshold chrysanthemum worries about smoke and tears, the curtain is light and cold, and the swallows fly away. The bright moon doesn't know how to leave sorrow and hate bitterness, and shines obliquely through Zhuhu Lake.
Last night, the west wind withered the trees, and I went up to the tall building alone and looked at the horizon. To send colorful stationery and rulers, I don't know where the mountains are long and the waters are wide!
A butterfly in love with flowers
Nalanxingde
Hard work is the most pitiful day, month and month. The past is like a ring, and the past and the past are lost. If the moon finally comes out, I will not hesitate to be roasted by snow and ice.
It's easy to die without that kind of fate. The swallow is still there, said the soft curtain hook. After singing the autumn grave, I didn't rest, and the spring bush recognized the amphibious butterfly.
A butterfly in love with flowers
Nalanxingde
The scenery in front of you can't stay. Carving saddles again. If you want to hide the road with tobacco, you will find that it is acacia.
Melancholy jade is like a barrier. What east wind, don't be a rich man. The broken belt left a begging word, and there was nowhere to find it.
Butterflies bloom.
Nalanxingde
The ancient rivers and mountains did not explicitly refuse. With the sound of drawing horns, horses come and go. Everything is desolate, who can speak? The west wind blows the old Danfeng.
There have been countless grievances. Ma Tiejin Pavilion, Qingcheng Evening Road. How much love? The rain in late autumn shines on the mountains.
A butterfly in love with flowers
Nalanxingde
Then he went to the place where Qingyang was broken, and without saying a word, he walked all over the clear autumn road with a whip. Grass has no intention of falling into the sky, and the sound of geese is as far away as xiaoguan.
I don't hate the hardships of the end of the world, but I hate the west wind blowing my dreams to the present. How much is the journey tomorrow? It's cold and rainy on your clothes.
Hua Lian Wei Yun
han pengfei
I don't know if the cloud came or didn't ask, but I was disconsolate at that time, regardless of my fate.
Clouds go away without hating. In a trance, you just forget and laugh. Laughing but not drifting away. Fate died because of disturbance.
Cry for the martyrs of Huanghuagang in the autumn of 19 1 1.
Huang xing
In a blink of an eye, the yellow flower looked at her hair and called the west wind a temporary cage fragrance. When the branches are full of fragrant dew, the wind blows on the heartless grave.
Looking back at Yangcheng at the end of March, bloody pieces were flying and mountains and rivers were swallowed up. Defeat is like a mouse, and the hero is speechless.