In this nocturne, the willow is broken, and no one can afford to be homesick. Li Bai [recommended] one is to move to Changsha and look at Chang' an in the west.
There was a flute sound of "Plum Blossom" from the Yellow Crane Tower, and another drop of plum blossom was seen on the river bank in May. Li Bai joined the army from Yumen Road and chased Jin Weishan.
There is a song "Plum Blossom" on the frontier fortress, which is the soldiers celebrating the victory of the war. Drums are everywhere in the desert, and the heroic spirit of the soldiers can pervade the clouds.
Only the head of Khan can get the head of Khan and go straight to Tielu. Listen to the Hu people playing the flute, Li Bai and the Jade Emperor playing the Hu people, half of which is the voice of Qin.
In October, Wu, plum blossoms fall into the pavilion. Tears welled up in my eyes when I smelled Saiqu.
Playing the flute Du Fu plays the flute. The autumn is crisp and the moon is clear. Who skillfully makes a heartbreaking sound? The wind is drifting with the wind, and the moon is bright near Guanshan.
Hu rode northbound in the middle of the night, and Wuling wanted to go southbound. Today, the old garden willow falls, why worry about the middle song?
In the evening, he took the wine to the river and Du Fu wanted to watch the white sunset on the Qingjiang River, and then took the beauty aboard. The flute was full of anger and sadness, and the wonderful dance didn't stop all night.
Big fish often haunt the lights and listen to the song low, if you like. In the middle of the night, the wind blows cold, and the ship is happy.
Out of Wang Zhihuan [Recommended] The Yellow River is an isolated city, Wan Ren Mountain, far from the white clouds. Jiang (the original word five strokes can't be played) flute, why bother to complain about Liu, the spring breeze is only Yumenguan.
On the bunker, I heard that playing the flute is noble and clean, and herding horses in Hu-day. On the moon, ginger (the original word cannot be played with five strokes) plays the flute between buildings. Excuse me, where did the plum blossom fall? The wind blew all over the mountain overnight.
At the banquet, Zhang Qiao played a song in Liangzhou, and the wind moved Xiao Sa to Jiangcheng. There is an old war guest in the seat. Don't play the flute.
Listening to the flute, Liu Changqing once took pity on me in Changsha, carrying wine and sand to bid farewell to the relocated guests. Where there is plenty of grass in the sea, who can play the flute on the river?
The flute can make lonely guests worry, and the green wave is as light as no flow. The voice of business is bright and the voice of feather is bitter, while the voice of river is silent and sad.
Listening to the sound of Guanshan, the moonlight in Sanxiang is sad. Blowing willow trees stirs up all the sounds, and thousands of miles of spring scenery hurts people's hearts.
Where does it drift with the wind? Only the winding lake is deep. After Farming left you, he turned white immediately.
Li Zhonglong, who plays the flute, stops listening to the moonlight, and the wonderful bamboo meets the good voice. Putting a song before seeing the two statues reminds people of Xu Yunfeng.
Recite the flute "Zhiwen Jiang" (the original word can't be played in five strokes), write down the dragon sound on the flute, and sing until late at night. Under the lonely moon on the mountain, I came to the dragon head to sing.
Blow plum blossoms one by one, including spring willow color surprise. Pay tribute to your son and sit in memory of your old neighbor.
Yuan Zhen, a poet in Lianchang Palace, played a tune for nine days, and twenty-five lang played the pipe one by one. Traveling all over Liangzhou, colorful Qiuci records constantly.
Li Mo pressed his flute against the palace wall and stole some new songs. Huzhang Tianque in Huaqing Palace is more important than being young at night, dancing between clouds and fairy songs.
The Jade Emperor rose in the air, and the moon was full and the Lishan Palace leaked long. I heard the flute. Zhang Hu flew in the plum blossom flute all night, and it was cold and clear.
The north wind blows to the clouds. Li Modi and Zhang Hu are always lucky in Luoyang City and Tianle Palace is bright at night.
Helpless, Li Mo stole the music, and the restaurant flute was a new sound. Listening to the flute on the wall of Shouxiang all night, Li Yi misses his hometown at night, and the flute is even more sad.
The sad man didn't want to hear it, so he came to the pillow. The wind is blocking the clouds, and the moon opens at night.
Pingming is lonely and melancholy, and tries her best to fly. At the banquet, the general watched the stone dance. Li Yiwei came to the garrison building in the southeast of Yue Yue, and the pipa danced on his head.
What's more, the flute is far from the mountain, and the white grass and sand are cold in autumn. On a spring night, I heard the flute. Li Yihan plays the flute to call for spring return, and the guests see tears all over their skirts.
Countless geese parked by the lake in the evening have been eager to fly north until dawn. Wei Shao, village flute, high and low, played a sad rhyme.
But I saw a lonely village on a moonlit night, and a cow flute interrupted people's intestines. Huaqing Palace and Du Sheren Xue Neng locked thousands of doors in silence and played the flute.
Shake your feathers with a soft voice and dress with a soft step. Zhao Xian [recommended], who heard the flute and played the flute and painted the building, had intermittent sounds followed by intermittent wind.
The sky is falling very clandestinely. Please go to the curtain call with Leng Yue. Huan Zi, a farmer from Xinglai, wrote an article to Ma Rong.
I don't know if people are here, but it's loud and empty. Dimfragrance Jiang Kui [Recommended] How many times have you photographed me in the plum blossom and played the flute? Arouse jade people and climb regardless of the cold.
He Xun is old now and has forgotten. But strangely, the flowers are sparse outside the bamboo, and the incense is cold into the Yao mat.
Jiangguo is silent. Sigh is strange and far away, and snow begins to accumulate at night.
Cui Zunyi cried, and the red calyx was silent and nostalgic. Chang Ji once joined hands to crush thousands of trees, making the West Lake cold and blue.
When can you see it again? Jade Louchun, the king of the Red Chamber, and the cold of the twelfth spring, who blows the jade emperor at the corner of the building? Tianjin Bridge used to listen to, thirty-six palace autumn grass green.
There is no news of Zhao Huaren leaving, and it is in Jiang Shangqing at night. With a loud noise, all the flowers in the short pavilion disappeared and countless pedestrians did not return.
Good news: Wang Yuanliang leans on the Zhejiang Building alone, complaining and moaning. And the voice of the pear garden, I miss that person.
Begonia is skinny and afraid of cold spring. How can it withstand the wind and rain? Looking back at Huaqing pool, the clouds are lingering.
Playing the flute on the boat Yang Wanli was impatient on the boat, got drunk, played the flute and blew a cigarette. A clear voice rang through the air, and the ape let out a cry and fell into the stream and spring.
Partridge day Huang Juzhi was born in, so don't let your glass dry up in life. In front of the wind, the flute blows obliquely, and the drunken hairpin hangs upside down.
Live, eat, dance, and enjoy the song board. Yellow flowers and white hairs are holding hands, and people look at them coldly when they give them.
Looking at the south of the Yangtze River, Huang Fusong [recommended] has blue flowers and dark red plantains on the screen. Dreaming of plum blossoms in the south of the Yangtze River, the night boat playing the flute and the rain rustling, and people talking about the post bridge.
Double tone. Water sprite Georgi was in several villages before and after winter, and both Beixi and Nanxi were frosted. Where is the fragrance when the cold wind comes on the lonely mountain at the bottom of the tree? When we met suddenly, I dressed up.
Wine wakes up cold dreams, Xiao hurts spring and heartbroken, and the moon is hazy. Zhong You, emperor of Ma Zhiyuan, sent away the cicada at sunset.
It is half cool and half curtain wind, and the poet's feelings are particularly heavy. Where is the balcony, and the flute sounds sad? Two hair spots, forever autumn night, how heavy the Chu wind is.
I can't stop dreaming.
2. The poem describing the flute is 1.
When the fixed residence is clear,
Cows blow bamboo flutes horizontally.
A song from the secluded mountain to the green,
Baiyun doesn't know this situation.
2.
When the calyx begins to contain snow,
It is difficult for a person to draw a picture.
It's always different when it smells,
Thin is better than cold.
The flute and the sad listening,
See the disease with oblique branches.
Wind is like a solution,
It is easy to be blown away.
3.
Cows must ride freely,
Spring breeze, drizzle.
In the green hills and grass,
A flute and a hemp fiber.
Singing at sunrise,
The moonlight caresses the palm and returns.
Who is similar,
Nothing, just nothing.
3. A good poem about the flute and pipa. White stars gather in righteousness. I see guests off on Xunyang River. At night, 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. Painting? I suggest going to the riverside on Qingming Festival.
4. There are 1300 poems with flutes.
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Qiujiang TanYongzhi
Clouds lock dreams on the river, and Liu Kun dances in the middle of the night.
The autumn wind is everywhere, and the village is rainy.
Nostalgia is unbearable, orange pomelo, who wants to value Wang Sun when traveling?
Fishermen don't ask each other when they meet, and Xiao returns to the island gate.
Li Yi heard the flute on a spring night.
In Hanshan's "The Flute Calls the Earth", the exiles look at each other with tears.
Countless geese parked by the lake in the evening have been eager to fly north until dawn.
Country night in Lei Zhen
In a pond full of grass, the water is full of water, and the mountains cover the waves.
Cowherd's child sat on the cow's back and casually played the tune with piccolo.
Listen to Li Bai and Qin Lang playing the flute on the Yellow Crane Tower in history.
Once people take a back seat, like Jia Yi in Changsha, they look far and wide, but they can't see Chang 'an or their hometown.
There was a flute sound of "Plum Blossom" from the Yellow Crane Tower, and another drop of plum blossom was seen on the river bank in May.
Boarding and hiking in summer
Paper screen carnation square bed, tired hands throwing books, long dreams in the afternoon.
When I was sleeping, I laughed alone, and several fishing flutes were in the blue waves.
5. The poem "Listening to the Flute on the Bunker" praising the flute was written by Gao Shi, a writer in the Tang Dynasty.
The full text of the ancient poem is as follows: Snow-clean horse grazes in the lake field, and Xiao guards the building in the moonlight. Excuse me, where did the plum blossom fall? The wind blew all over the mountain overnight.
The ice and snow melted, and the invading Hu Bing quietly returned. The moonlight was bright and the melodious flute echoed in the garrison.
Where does the sentimental "plum blossom tune" drift? It's like plum blossoms falling on the mountain with the wind. Smelling flute in Los Angeles on a Spring Night is the work of Li Bai, a writer in the Tang Dynasty.
The full text of the ancient poem is as follows: Whose Yu Di flies in the dark and scatters into the east wind of Los Angeles. In this nocturne, the willow is broken, and no one can afford to be homesick.
Whose courtyard does the quiet Yu Di fly out of? Enter the spring breeze and float over the ancient city of Luoyang. Who can't help but miss their hometown when they hear the music of "Folding Willow" on the night of their stay?
The author of "The First Meeting in Yangzhou Appreciates Lotte" is Liu Yuxi, a writer in the Tang Dynasty. Its full-text ancient poems are as follows: Bashan Chuhe River is desolate and abandoned in twenty-three years.
People come back. Like people in Michelle, I can only play the flute, and I am disappointed. On one side of the boat, Qian Fan races; At the head of the sick tree, every year is a spring shower.
Today, listen to you sing a song, drink a glass of wine and cheer up. I spent twenty-three years in the desolate places of Bashan and Chushui.
Missing an old friend, reciting Xiao Fu in vain, and returning home for a long time is not the past. Next to the sunken ship, there is a passing Qian Fan, but before the diseased tree, there is a struggle in spring.
After listening to the poem you recited to me today, I can cheer up with this wine for the time being. Joining the Army was written by Wang Changling, a writer in the Tang Dynasty.
The full text of his ancient poem is as follows: a hundred feet bonfire in the west of the city, and you sit alone in the sea breeze and autumn at dusk. Guan Shanyue, who plays Qiangdi, is not worried about the golden boy Wan Li.
This building in the west of Huo Feng City is hundreds of feet high. At dusk, I sat there alone, bathed in the autumn wind of Qinghai Lake. The music "Guan Shanyue" played by Qiangdi was brought from afar by the autumn wind, which can't eliminate my yearning for my wife thousands of miles away.
The author of Liangzhou Ci is Wang Zhihuan, a writer in the Tang Dynasty. The full text of his ancient poems is as follows: The Yellow River is far above the white clouds, and there is an isolated city-Wan Ren.
Why use the elegy of willow to complain about the delay of spring, old Yumenguan, a spring breeze is not blowing! Looking around, the Yellow River is drifting away, as if rushing in winding white clouds. In the mountains of Wan Ren in the upper reaches of the Yellow River, an isolated city, Yumenguan, stands tall and isolated.
Why do you want to use Qiangdi to play sad willow songs to complain that spring has not come? It turns out that the spring breeze can't blow around Yumen Gate. The author of The Shepherd Boy is Yan Lu, a writer in the Tang Dynasty.
The full text of his ancient poems is as follows: the grass shop is six or seven miles away from the field, and the flute is three or four times in the evening breeze. Come back from a full meal at dusk and lie in the moonlight without taking off your hemp fiber.
Green grass, vast Yuan Ye, endless. The flute sounded intermittently in the evening breeze, melodious.
The shepherd boy returned from grazing and had a big meal at dusk. He didn't even take off his hemp fiber, so he lay happily on the grass and looked at the bright moon in the sky.
The author of the dream work is Ouyang Xiu, a writer in the Song Dynasty. The full text of the ancient poem is as follows: Qian Shan plays the flute at night, and the road is dark and beautiful.
Playing chess doesn't know how to change the world, and the bar is helpless to miss home. In classical poetry, there are many people who write dreams or poems in their dreams.
In Qing Dynasty, Zhao Yi once said in Ou Bei Shi Hua that there were as many as 99 Dream Poems written by Lu You. Some of these works write dreams, and some use dreams to express the poet's feelings.
Another feature of this poem is that the antithesis is ingenious and seamless, and the two conjunctions are opposite. This is influenced by Du Fu's quatrains.
The author of Deng Kuaige is Huang Tingjian, a writer in the Song Dynasty. The full text of his ancient poems is as follows: I have abandoned my official business, and things in the pavilion depend on yat sen villa.
Qian Shan has a vast sky, and Chengjiang has a bright moon. Zhu Xian is already a beauty, and her young eyes are chatting with wine.
Wan Li returned to the ship to play the flute, which is why we made an alliance with Bai Ou. I'm not a big shot, just a perfunctory official. I have been busy all day. Taking advantage of the rain at night, I went to the express pavilion to relax.
From a distance, it is early winter, when all the trees are depressed and the world is wider. In the bright moonlight, Chengjiang flows clearly into the distance.
My friends are far away, and I haven't been interested in playing strings for a long time. Only when I see wine will my eyes shine. Thinking about the fetters of life, an official might as well find a boat to play the flute and float to his hometown, where being with Bai Ou is not a better destination.
On the River was written by Wang Anshi, a writer in the Song Dynasty. The full text of his ancient poems is as follows: the west wind overflows the river, and the river flowers turn red in the evening.
The flute of love, blowing farewell, blows to the mountains in the east with the autumn wind. Autumn wind is blowing on the river, and the fallen flowers on the river bank are falling in the sunset glow.
The feeling of parting makes the distant flute blow, and with the autumn wind blows to the east of the mountain. The author of Watching Hu People Play the Flute is Li Bai, a writer in the Tang Dynasty.
The full text of his ancient poems is as follows: Hu people play the jade emperor, half for the sound of the piano. In October, Wu, plum blossoms fall into the pavilion.
Tears welled up in my eyes when I smelled Saiqu. But looking at Chang 'an Road, I miss that main feeling.
The conference semifinals played on flutes, mostly three fat. At dawn in Wu Shan in October, a song "Plum Blossom" fell to Jingting.
My hat tassel was wet with tears when I heard the music of "Out of the Plug" in sadness. Looking back at the avenue leading to Chang 'an, it's a pity that I fell in love with the monarch.
The author of The Yellow Crane Tower Smells the Flute is Li Bai, a writer in the Tang Dynasty. The full text of his ancient poems is as follows: 1. Moving to Changsha, looking to Chang 'an in the west, not seeing home.
There was a flute sound of "Plum Blossom" from the Yellow Crane Tower, and another drop of plum blossom was seen on the river bank in May. This is what Li Bai did when he exiled Yelang to Wuchang in the first year of Gan Yuan (758).
This poem is about visiting the Yellow Crane Tower and listening to the flute, which expresses the poet's exile abroad. Jia Yi in the Western Han Dynasty was relegated to Changsha by the powerful minister for accusing the current politics.
Li Bai was also implicated in the Li Lin incident in Wang Yong, and was exiled to Yelang on the charge of "disobedience". So the poet quoted Jia Yi as a homonym.
Jiangnan Dream was written by Huang Fusong, a writer in the Tang Dynasty. The full text of his ancient poems is as follows: blue embers fall, dark red bananas are on the screen.
Dreaming about plum blossoms in the south of the Yangtze River, and playing flute and rain at night. At the People's Postal Bridge.
The deeper the translation, the dim candles and the canna on the painting screen. I was sleepy and finally fell asleep. In my dream, I was in Jiangnan after a long separation. When childhood is mature, it is the rainy season in Jiangnan. I was alone in the boat, holding a bamboo flute, playing with the rustling rain outside the boat, and sometimes I heard people talking at the post station on the bridge, talking about the long-lost local accent and telling unforgettable stories.
Masao
6. The sentence describing the flute continued to float in the air, and I jumped into the ocean of this note. When the beautiful rhythm spreads in my ear-high and low; Melodious and passionate-the heart is also surging.
The unique timbre of the flute permeates the room, like an idyllic poem, elegant and light, quiet and distant; Like a winding stream, it is clear and crisp, singing gently; Like the original scenery of my hometown, it is fresh and natural without lead carving.
Alone in the bow, a flute flutters in the dusk, the melodious flute stirs the red clouds on the horizon, and the scattered flute dances the reeds on both sides.
On a lonely night, whose flute is fiddling with the strings of the wind, just like the flowers on the other side are dancing gracefully, falling or rising together, gently drifting through the ears from far and near and overflowing the heart.
Suddenly there was a beautiful flute sound, as if I was in a beautiful dream, intoxicating, as if flowers were blooming all over my heart and exciting. It seems that the whole world is listening to it, which is addictive.
Suddenly, the flute became lively and interesting, turning repeatedly, and the beautiful melody fell layer by layer, and the speed increased one by one. It's really interesting to sing late.
The flute in the quiet night, however, comes from an open heart, melodious and floating, constantly echoing, lingering with infinite reverie and yearning, and slowly rising.
An eternal music turns to the ileum and ripples for thousands of times; A melodious flute sounds like shouting and turns into the curve of the sea.
The beautiful and elegant flute is lingering in my ears, as if a freehand brushwork picture is spread out in front of my eyes.
I have to gasp in admiration, this flute is simply the sound of nature-so beautiful, so beautiful, so desirable, the notes touch my nerves one by one, how can I not make people tremble and admire?
The edge of the day was dyed rouge by the sunset, and the loud and exciting flute rippled in the quiet crossing street and slowly disappeared at the end of the street.
The flute is getting smaller and smaller, the fishing boat is sleeping on the shore, and my heart is immersed in the melody like a rhythmic song, then it is high, then it is calm, and then it goes away. ...
The flute is fading away, and in the faint sadness, I return to my naive childhood and outline my infinite nostalgia for the past.
The sound of the flute renders the twilight scene in the misty rain poetic and confusing, which reminds people of the sound from the ancient city wall in Jia Pingwa's novels.
The flute rises into the deep space with the stars and the bright moon, and dances gracefully with the clouds, just like the noise between heaven and earth turns into a gorgeous brocade, a silent and clever picture scroll, and a fresh and mysterious music.