Yellow cranes no longer come, and white clouds no longer fly.
The Yellow River is far above the white clouds, and there is an isolated city, Wan Ren Mountain. What are the yellow poems? Two orioles sing green willows, and a row of egrets go up to the sky.
An old friend stayed in the West Yellow Crane Tower, and fireworks went down to Yangzhou in March.
Yellow shirts fly to white horses, and brothels descend every day.
Yellow leaves fall to the ground and make a sound, and the shadow of Qingshan blends into the city.
There is cold rain in Huangye ancient temple, and there are many white clouds in Qingshan barren tomb.
Yellow sand wears golden armor in hundreds of battles, but the loulan is not returned.
The Yellow River is getting farther and farther away, because it flows in the middle of the Yellow River, and Yumenguan is located on a lonely mountain.
Yellow cranes no longer come, and white clouds no longer fly.
Four yellow maiden flowers thrive on the road covered, and thousands of flowers bow and the branches are low.
It rains at home in Huangmei season, and frogs are everywhere in the grass pond.
I have sailed on the river of yellow flowers and been carried by the green stream.
I am often afraid of autumn festivals. J yellow flower leaf decline
Purple plug three obstacles, yellow dust eight sides.
To see the sun, for all his glory, but near dusk.
The condition is that the wind is strong late at night and the mountains fly.
During the day, the mountains and waters are nearby, and the sea drains the golden river.
Warm spring urges warblers to sing, and duckweed in the clear sun is dark in color.
Shrike swallows the west, and the weaver girl meets the weaver girl.
The south wind turned yellow in April, and the jujube flowers did not fall.
Like a bird, she still flapped her wings and felt sorry for herself, leaving Beijing for more than ten years.
The child ran quickly to catch the yellow butterfly, but the butterfly suddenly flew into the vegetable garden and could not be found again.
Old friends frequently waved to me, bid farewell to the Yellow Crane Tower, and traveled to Yangzhou in this beautiful spring filled with catkins and flowers.
The poet Jing Qing is in the Spring Festival, and the green willows and yellow are half uneven.
"Mottled shadows hang obliquely on the clear shallow water, and their fragrance spreads peacefully in the moonlight dusk."
The grass grows by the stream alone, and the orioles sing in the deep trees.
"Two orioles sing green willows, and egrets cover the sky."
The water in front of the door can also flow west! Why can't a rooster crow with a white comb on his head?
"Two orioles sing green willows, and egrets cover the sky."
She came out of the purple palace and entered the desert. Now she has become a green grave in the yellow dusk.
Blooming chrysanthemums are in full bloom, Chang 'an is fragrant, the city is bathed in the fragrance of chrysanthemums-Italy, and the land is like golden chrysanthemums.
Dark clouds Huang Yun wants to cross the river, and the wind and sand squint at the snow. Poems with the word "yellow":
1 yellow shirts fly to white horses, under the brothel every day.
During the day, the mountains and waters are nearby, and the sea drains the golden river.
I saw a yellow oriole flying in the warm air, and a green water plant was reflected by the sun.
The shrike flew from the east, the swallow flew from the west, and Huang Gu met when she was weaving a girl.
The south wind turned yellow in April, and the jujube flowers did not fall.
Six thousand miles in Huang Yun, during the day, the north wind blows geese and snow.
Seven children chased Huang Die and flew into the cauliflower.
An old friend stayed in the West Yellow Crane Tower, and fireworks went down to Yangzhou in March.
9 Huang Si's maiden is full of flowers, and thousands of them are low.
10 Jing Qing, a poet, is half-jagged in green, willow and yellow during the Spring Festival.
1 1 The Yellow River is far above the white clouds, and it is a lonely city of Wan Ren.
12 autumn wind starts in Bai Yunfei, plants and trees fall yellow, and geese return to the south. Poems with the word "yellow":
1 yellow shirts fly to white horses, under the brothel every day.
During the day, the mountains and waters are nearby, and the sea drains the golden river.
I saw a yellow oriole flying in the warm air, and a green water plant was reflected by the sun.
The shrike flew from the east, the swallow flew from the west, and Huang Gu met when she was weaving a girl.
The south wind turned yellow in April, and the jujube flowers did not fall.
Six thousand miles in Huang Yun, during the day, the north wind blows geese and snow.
Seven children chased Huang Die and flew into the cauliflower.
An old friend stayed in the West Yellow Crane Tower, and fireworks went down to Yangzhou in March.
9 Huang Si's maiden is full of flowers, and thousands of them are low.
10 Jing Qing, a poet, is half-jagged in green, willow and yellow during the Spring Festival.
1 1 The Yellow River is far above the white clouds, and it is a lonely city of Wan Ren.
12 autumn wind starts in Bai Yunfei, plants and trees fall yellow, and geese return to the south. 1 yellow shirts fly to white horses, under the brothel every day.
During the day, the mountains and waters are nearby, and the sea drains the golden river.
I saw a yellow oriole flying in the warm air, and a green water plant was reflected by the sun.
The shrike flew from the east, the swallow flew from the west, and Huang Gu met when she was weaving a girl.
The south wind turned yellow in April, and the jujube flowers did not fall.
Six thousand miles in Huang Yun, during the day, the north wind blows geese and snow.
Seven children chased Huang Die and flew into the cauliflower.
An old friend stayed in the West Yellow Crane Tower, and fireworks went down to Yangzhou in March.
9 Huang Si's maiden is full of flowers, and thousands of them are low.
10 Jing Qing, a poet, is half-jagged in green, willow and yellow during the Spring Festival.
1 1 The Yellow River is far above the white clouds, and it is a lonely city of Wan Ren.
12 autumn wind starts in Bai Yunfei, plants and trees fall yellow, and geese return to the south.
Zui Hua Yin Li Qingzhao
Fog filled the clouds, and the days were spent in sorrow. Kapoor was among the birds in the incense burner. The festival is also a double ninth festival, and the jade pillow gauze kitchen is half cold at night.
Dongli drinks until dusk, and faint chrysanthemum fragrance overflows his sleeves. Do not die. West wind blinds, people are thinner than yellow flowers.
Li Qingzhao's voice is slow, searching, cold, and sad.
It's the hardest to stop breathing when it's warm and cold.
Three glasses of light wine, how can you object to his coming late and rushing! Guo Yan is very sad, but this is an old acquaintance.
Yellow flowers were piled all over the floor, withered and damaged. Who can pick them now? Looking out the window, how can you be black alone! Indus is drizzling, and at dusk, it is falling. This time, what a sad sentence!
Pipa line Bai Juyi
In the evening, I bid farewell to a guest on Xunyang River. Maple leaves and mature rushes rustle in autumn.
I, the host, have dismounted, my guest has boarded his boat, and we raise our cups, hoping to drink-but, alas, there is no music.
Although we drank a lot of wine, we were not happy. When we were leaving each other, the river mysteriously widened in the direction of the full moon.
We heard a sudden sound, a guitar crossed the water, the host forgot to go home and the guests left.
We followed the melody, asked the player's name, and the voice was interrupted ... and then she reluctantly answered.
We moved the boat closer to hers, invited her to join us, and summoned more wine and lanterns to start our party again.
However, before she came to us, we called a thousand times and urged her for a thousand times, but she still hid half of her face behind her guitar from us.
... she turned the tuning pin and tested several strings, and even before she played, we could feel her feelings.
Every string is a kind of meditation, and every note is a kind of deep thinking, as if she were telling us the pain of her life.
She frowned and bent her fingers, then started her music and talked about endless things in your heart.
Take your time, first the air in the rainbow skirt, then the six small ones.
Big strings hum like rain, and small strings whisper like secrets.
Humming, whispering-and then mixing together, like pouring large and small pearls into a plate of jade.
Between Guan Ying's words, the bottom of the flower is slippery, and spring water flows along the beach.
By checking its cold touch, the string seems to be broken, which makes us never stop.
The depth of sadness and the hiding of sadness are more told in silence than in voice.
A silver vase suddenly burst, pouring out a stream of water, jumping out of the conflict and blow between armored horses and weapons.
Before she put down the pick, her stroke was over, and all four strings made a sound, just like tearing silk.
The east ship was silent, and the west ship was silent. We saw the white autumn moon entering the river.
Put it on the strings thoughtfully, straighten clothes and gather customers.
Tell us how she spent her girlhood in the capital and lived in her parents' house in Toad Hill.
She mastered the guitar at the age of thirteen, and her name ranked first in the list of musicians.
Song often teaches excellent talents, and her beauty is the envy of all the leading dancers.
How did the aristocratic youths in Wuling compete generously? Countless red silks were given to a song.
And the blood color of the skirt was stained by wine, China.
Season after season, joy followed, and neither the autumn moon nor the spring breeze attracted her attention.
My brother joined the army and my aunt died. Night after night passed and her beauty disappeared.
There were fewer and fewer cars and horses in front of the door, and finally she married herself to a businessman.
Who, first of all, stole money, accidentally left her and went to Fuliang to buy tea a month ago.
Go to Jiangkou to watch the boat in the air, and the moon sails around the boat in cold water.
Sometimes in the middle of the night, she dreams of her victory and is awakened from her dream by her hot tears.
Her first guitar note made me sigh. Now, after listening to her story, I feel even sadder.
We were all unhappy until the end of the day, when we met. We understand. What is the relationship between acquaintances? .
A year ago, I left the capital and came here. Now I am a sick Jiujiang exile.
Jiujiang is so far away that I haven't heard music, neither strings nor bamboo sounds for a whole year.
I live in a small town near the river, which is low and humid. Huang Lu bitter bamboo is born around the house.
What can you hear here in the morning and evening? The cuckoo's bleeding cry, the ape's sobbing.
I often pick up the wine and drink it alone in the morning of spring with flowers and the night of autumn with moonlight shining.
Of course, there are folk songs and bagpipes in the village, which are hard to hear.
Tonight, when I heard you playing the guitar, I felt that my hearing was illuminated by wonderful music.
Don't leave us. Come, sit down. Play it for us again. I will write a Long song about guitar. ..
... she was moved by my words, stood there for a while, and then sat down to play her strings-they sounded even sadder.
Although the tune was different from what she had played before, all the listeners covered their faces.
But which of them cried the most? , this Jiujiang officer. My blue sleeves are wet.
Spring leek cut in the rain at night, newly cooked brown rice —— A Gift to Wei Ba by Tang Du Fu
Autumn wind rises in Bai Yunfei, the plants are yellow, and the geese return to the south. -Liu Han Che "Autumn Wind"
The bright sun on the sea is about to rise, and Jiangnan in the south of the Yangtze River is reviving. I saw an oriole flying in the warm air, and a green water plant was reflected by the sun.
Haishu: Sunrise at sea. Li Heliu in the wild in spring: Liu Mei crosses Jiang Lai, and spring scenery in the south of the Yangtze River. Shu Qi: The warm breath of spring. Turn green apple wave: turn green apple grass in water. The four sentences mean: rosy clouds rise to the sea with the rising sun, plum blossoms and green willows take the other side of the spring river, yellow birds sing in warm spring, and sunshine makes apples green.
Tang Du Shen Yan and Lu Cheng's Early Spring Journey in Jinling.
In Xianyang in February and March, Golden Branch Palace Willow
Li Bai's ancient style in Tang Dynasty
The poet Jing Qing is in the Spring Festival, and the green willows and yellow are half uneven.
Half; Majority. Uneven: uneven.
Early Spring in the East of the City by Tang Dynasty
Looking for flowers by the river (Du Fu)
Huang Si's maiden is full of flowers,
Thousands of flowers crushed the branches.
Butterflies have been dancing,
The charming warbler chirps. The yellow word at the beginning of this poem "Don Tang Ming Movement? Feather voice Wu Zetian
The healing rule began in the middle of winter, and apples and seaweed made a feast for Chen.
Ling Huang is a jade candle, and the red stripes are Yin years old.
September 10th Li Yu
When I wake up in the rain and autumn, I feel uneasy.
Yellow flowers are cold and not beautiful, and red leaves beat drums.
Back on earth, I can hate vulgarity, and I have not forgotten my affection.
Since the sideburns are all white, I'm surprised not to learn from An Ren.
Ruan Langgui Li Yu
The east wind blows water every day, and spring is long and idle.
Flowers are exhausted, wine is decayed, and songs are drunk.
Sleep in spring, put on makeup at night, and no one cleans up.
I miss Zhu Yan and live alone at dusk.
Li Yu, Wang Yuanxing
Green flowers are bright and bright, and Zhu Fei has been the mayor for a long time.
The rest are cold and hard to dream, and the smoke is cold and fine.
Liaoyang moon, Moling anvil, is not news but love.
The golden stage was a surprise, inviting people back to Japan.