Yan Shu wrote it.
A new word, a glass of wine,
Last year, the weather was very old.
When will the sunset come back?
There is nothing to do. Flowers fall,
Deja vu, the geese return,
Wandering alone in the small garden, fragrant path.
Li Qingzhao:
Embroidered hibiscus smiles. Duck wrapped in crab roe with fragrant cheeks. Oh, I don't know
On the one hand, it is charming, on the other hand, it is charming and hateful to send you. The moon moves and the shadow comes back.
In the yard, the idle windows are deep in spring, the heavy curtains are not heavy, and the lyre leans against the floor speechless.
In the distant mountains, the dusk is in a hurry, the wind is blowing and the rain is beating, and the shade is light. Pear blossoms are hard to thank.
The red sun is three feet high, and the golden furnace adds incense to the beast for the second time, and the red brocade lichen wrinkles with every step.
Beauty dances with golden hairpin, wine can't smell flowers, and other halls can smell flute and drum.
What Su Shi did:
Under the mountain, the blue buds are short immersed in the stream, and the sand road between the pines is clean and mud-free. At dusk, the rain is whispering.
Who says life can't go back to adolescence? The water in front of the door can still flow westward. Don't bemoan the passage of old age!
Clothes and towels rustle with jujube flowers, and cars ring in the south and north of the village. Cow clothes and ancient willows sell cucumbers.
The road was full of wine, but he was sleepy. Sun was thirsty for tea and knocked at the door to ask the savage.