Read Du Fu in the car.
Author: love
The news of this distant western station! The north has been recovered!
staggering
The bus is too long. I first saw you on Anxi Road.
Dust is like the panic of An Lushan's defeated army
Xuanzong happened to look back on his way back to Beijing from Shu.
Actually, I can't help it.
Scarf blown speechless by the wind.
Now I suddenly heard the news and thought you had a reward.
Can I take a ride home with you?
When the news reached my ears, my robe was wet with tears.
Accumulate tears for years
Finally, it flooded and soaked the whole history.
Lift the broken sleeves and wipe the vertical and horizontal sides of the face.
Followed by a deep sigh.
Dust fell on the wall.
Put the unfinished poem on the box.
The melody is not harmonious, lack of image and so on.
Wait until the wine is hot.
But what is his wife's worry?
Eight years out of chaos
Husband and wife are worried under the lamp. Yes, this should be the last time.
The news came suddenly, for fear of inaccuracy.
Worried that life is too long and too short.
Trouble years, where is tomorrow?
The fear of returning to China is gone for the time being.
At this moment, I saw my wife's smile as warm as fire.
It is snowing outside the window.
I was ecstatic when I rolled up my collection of poems.
The car suddenly stopped at Heping East Road.
During the bumps, I found that the car was full of Chinese and Tang costumes.
I have a sound in my ear.
I saw a Confucian scholar in the back seat packing in a hurry.
Books, poems and old shirts were scattered all over the floor.
Seven points of ecstasy, three points of sigh.
Sometimes I look up and concentrate, and sometimes I look down and meditate.
The heart after the robbery is fire and ash.
Sing my songs loudly and drink my wine.
Just let me get drunk for once.
No matter how many times you wake up.
It's nothing but drift from place to place.
Nothing more than shallow feet in the mud.
No amount of poetry.
There is nothing but blood.
It's nothing more than a black and blue scar
Wine is the only way to take me home.
In the green spring, I began to go home.
Mountain is a journey, and water is a journey.
Holding sunshine and flowers.
Fly in the sky with birds in your arms.
In spring and on the way to burp.
Rain is a trip, and snow is a trip.
Hold the river, hold the boat.
Hold the road, hold the car.
Go on the road with fear of being close to home.
I think I have passed the Wuxia Gorge and the Baxia Gorge.
The car has left Chengdu Road.
I still hear the song of watering the grass house.
There used to be Baidi City, where apes honked their horns on both sides of the strait.
From Baxia to martial arts, my heart is like a torrent.
Half on the river.
The other half has arrived in Luoyang.
What a panic it was to pull optical fiber into Sichuan.
Sitting in the bow today, watching the sunset on the cliff.
Come from the south, then go north-to my own town!
Sichuanese leave Sichuan.
Chang 'an from the perspective of spring.
I trudged all the way to Kuizhou in Qiuxing.
Now you have finally returned to Luoyang, a city full of peonies.
But I got off at Hangzhou South Road.
I hit the misty world of mortals.
As far as I can see, where is Yanyu West Lake?
Where is my Jiangnan water town?