The quiet path (three poems)
The soft willow silk on the quiet path is colorful and colorful at a glance.
The sun is beautiful and the wind is gentle, and I am looking for a wonderful sentence, but my pen is not sharp enough to rest.
The west wind blows into the head of the river, and the mist of the wild road is filled with coldness.
There is a hut in the path, and the moon is like a hook on the ground.
The path leads to secluded willow trees, and the reflections in the river are closely connected.
The setting sun touches the green hills, and the colorful red clouds meet the blue sky.