Li Qingzhao's poems in his later years are as follows:
"Tian Zi Chou Nuer"
Who planted the banana tree in front of the window? The atrium is filled with shadow. The atrium is filled with shadows, and the leaves are feeling relaxed and full of emotions. It rains in the middle of the night on the sad pillow, and it rains every bit. Little by little, I am worried that the northerners are not used to hearing it.
This poem writes that she heard the rain hitting the plantains, which caused her to feel sad about being in a foreign land. The author fled from the north to the south, and hearing this kind of sound that he had never heard in his hometown suddenly felt like a foreign country.
"Wuling Spring"
The wind abides in the dust and the fragrant flowers have all gone, and I am tired of combing my hair day and night. Things are different and people are not the same. Everything stops. If you want to speak, you will shed tears first. I heard that the spring in Shuangxi is still good, so I plan to take a boat trip. I'm afraid that the boat in Shuanggai will not be able to carry it, and I will be very sad.
This poem was written in 1135. After Zhao Mingcheng died of illness, she went through many twists and turns, wandered around, and took refuge in Jinhua. She was already fifty-one years old. The words reflected her sad mood at that time.
"Butterfly Loves Flowers"
The eternal night is full of joy. Dream of Chang'an in the sky, recognize the road of Chang'an. In order to report the good spring this year, it is better to take pictures of the flowers and the moonlight. Although the cups and plates are casual, the wine is delicious and the plums are sour, just like a person's embrace. Don't arrange flowers when you're drunk, don't laugh when you're drunk. Spring is as pitiful as a person getting old.
The author often missed his motherland in his later years, "dreaming about Chang'an in vain, and recognizing the road to Chang'an", which shows the depth of his feelings. The poem talks about common things to her relatives, expressing a kind mood.
"Breaking Through the Sands of Huanxi"
I started to feel sick, my temples were dazzling, and I lay down to watch the waning moon on the window screen. Fry the cardamom tips into water and do not use them as tea. It is good to relax with poems and books on the pillow, and the scenery in front of the door is beautiful when the rain comes. Borrowing from many people all day long, mignonette.
The author of this poem does not write about sorrow, but describes daily life and interest. It is quite real and natural, showing her leisurely mood.
The author has become accustomed to a homeless life in his later years