A Dream in Red Mansions
Flowers fade, flowers fly all over the sky, and who will pity if the red disappears and the fragrance disappears?
The spring pavilion floats softly, and the falling catkins touch the pastoral curtain.
The daughter in the boudoir cherishes the twilight of spring and looks sad;
Hoe the flowers out of the country curtains with both hands and endure falling flowers again and again.
Willow and elm pod come from wheat straw, whether it's peach floating or Li Fei,
Peaches and plums can be delivered next year. Who do you know in the boudoir next year?
When the fragrant nest was first built in March, the swallow in the beam was too ruthless;
Although we can peck at flowers and hairs next year, it is impossible for people to go to an empty nest.
360 days a year, the wind and sword are pressing;
When will it shine? Once you drift, it's hard to find.
Flowers are easy to see but hard to find, and the person who buried them was killed in front of the steps;
Stealing flowers and hoes and crying alone, watching the blood stains on the branches in the sky.
The cuckoo was silent at dusk, and the lotus hoe returned to cover the heavy door;
The blue light shines on the wall, people are sleeping for the first time, and the windows are not warm!
Complaining is double the pain? Half out of pity, half out of trouble.
Flow spring suddenly to bother, and to silence.
Last night, I sent a sad song outside the court, knowing that it was a flower soul and a bird soul?
The soul of a flower and a bird is always hard to stay, and the bird is ashamed of itself without words.
May Nong have wings this day and fly to the end of the day with flowers.
After all, where is Xiangshan?
Without a trick, I hid my love with a pure land.
Clean the quality, clean it up, and don't let it fall into the ditch.
If you die today and bury it, you don't know when you will die!
The person who buried the flowers today is laughing. I knew who it was when I buried it!
Let's see the residual flowers of spring gradually falling, which is the time when beauty dies of old age.
No sad songs for me, I don't know what happened!
Inlaid harp
Li shangyin
I want to know why my Jinse has fifty strings, and each string has a youthful interval.
Zhuangzi daydreaming, a saint, was bewitched by butterflies, and cuckoo crowed in the imperial spring.
Mermaids shed pearl-like tears on the moon-green sea, and the blue fields breathed their jade to the sun.
A moment that should last forever has come and gone before I know it.