Write poems about prostitutes

Xi Qian Ying (Song Dynasty) Xu Yi dove rain fine, Yan Feng oblique. Spring silently thanked her parents. A heavy curtain is the end of the world. Why cover it with dusk clouds? Gold is cold and jade is cold, and the meaning of drunkenness is not wine. A spring grooming is not a good flower, but a few years of loneliness.

The operator doesn't like sex, and it seems that his predecessor made a mistake. When flowers bloom, it is always the monarch of the East. You have to leave, you have to live. If the mountain flowers are blooming, Mo Wen will be enslaved to the south alley, and Feng Yansi will be slightly rainy and wet, and the grass will hate every year. Smoke locks the phoenix terrace, and the mirror is full of heartbroken. Dreams are melodious, and I sleep in a bed embroidered with flowers. Fortunately, I didn't walk to the half-closed door, and the sunset made you cry for the last spring.

Sauvignon blanc thrush is deep, thrush is light, cicada temples are covered with clouds, and the balcony is rainy. Wushan is high, Wushan is low, the rain is raining at dusk, Lang does not return, and the room is empty. Look at Jiangnan (Dunhuang Quzi Ci), don't climb me, climb me too wide. I am Liu Linchi, a native of Qujiang. This man broke that man's climb. Love for a while!