Appreciation of three green poems with more than+100 words

Tang He Zhang Zhi

Jasper dressed as a tree, hanging down ten thousand green silk tapestries.

I don't know who cut the thin leaves, but the spring breeze in February is like scissors.

A tall willow, dressed like jasper, with countless branches hanging down and green silk strips. I wonder who cut off the thin willow leaves. The warm and cold February spring breeze is like a pair of scissors.

, "Spring Thoughts" Tang Libai

The grass is as green as Beth, and the mulberry leaves in Qin area are green. Finally, you want to go home,

Now when my heart is about to break. Spring breeze, since I dare not know you, why should I separate the silk curtain beside my bed? ?

Swallow the spring grass, tender as green Sue,

Mulberry leaves in the Qin Dynasty were thick enough to bend branches.

Lang Jun, when you are homesick at the border,

It is the day when I miss you at home and feel deeply grieved.

Affectionate spring breeze, I don't know you,

Why did you break into the camel and disturb my mind?

2, "Spring Hope" Tang Du Fu

Chang' an fell, the country was broken, and only the mountains and rivers remained; Spring has come, and the sparsely populated Chang' an city is densely forested. Sad state, can not help but burst into tears, amazing birds, leaving sorrow and hate.

The war lasted for more than half a year, and letters from home were rare, with a hundred thousand gold. Twisting with melancholy, scratching my head and thinking, the more I scratch my white hair, I can hardly insert a hairpin.

Chang 'an fell into the country, leaving only mountains and rivers.

Spring has come, the city is empty, sparsely populated and the vegetation is dense and deep.

Affectionate state affairs face flowers, and tears are hard to stop.

The separation of parents and birds is thrilling and only increases hatred.

Since the beginning of spring, wars have been frequent and spread in March.

Home? There is little news from the country, and a letter is worth thousands of dollars.

Sorrow is entangled in scratching my head and thinking, and my white hair is getting shorter and shorter.

Hair loss is so short that it can hardly be inserted.