Poetry about meteorology and phenology Bai Juyi's "Farewell to the Ancient Grassland"
The grass grows in the original grassland, and it dries up every year.
The wildfire cannot be burned out, but the spring breeze blows it again.
The distant fragrance invades the ancient road, and the clear green meets the deserted city.
I sent the king and grandson off again, and the love was full of farewell.
Bai Juyi's "Visit to Dalin Temple in Lushan Mountain"
The beauty of April in the world is gone, and the peach blossoms in the mountain temple are beginning to bloom.
Eternal regret has no place to return to in spring, and I don’t know where to turn.
One of Du Fu's "Two Poems on the Water Threshold to Heart"
Going to Guoxuan Yingchang, there is no village to look at.
The Chengjiang River is flat on its banks, and the secluded trees have many flowers in the evening.
In the drizzle, fish come out, and in the breeze, swallows slant.
There are 100,000 households in the city, but there are only two or three here.
One of Du Fu's "Three Poems on the Screen"
Use clumsiness to preserve my way, live in seclusion and be close to things.
The mulberry trees are covered with deep rain and dew, and the sparrows are half-grown.
The village drums are always in a hurry, and the fishing boats are all light.
The white head of the staff is white, and the heart is filled with happiness and clarity.
Jia Zhi's "Farewell to the Kings and Eight Members at Baling Night"
Farewell to Luoyang when the catkins are flying, and to Sanxiang after the plum blossoms bloom.
The feelings of the world have dispersed like floating clouds, and the separation and hatred are as long as the river.
"Ode to the Willow" by He Zhizhang
Jasper is made up into a tree as high as a tree, with thousands of green silk threads hanging down.
I don’t know who to cut out, the spring breeze in February is like scissors.
Ouyang Xiu's "Birds Cry"
When the yang energy comes into being in the poor mountains, everything seems to be competing with the seasons.
The deep flowers and leaves will shine brightly in the morning, and the sun will be warm and all the birds will sing.
One of Su Shi's "Evening Scenes on the Spring River in Hui Chong"
Three or two skills of peach blossoms outside the bamboo are the prophets of the warmth of the spring river.
The ground is covered with wormwood and short reed buds, which is when the puffer fish is about to come.
"A Visitor" by Zhao Shixiu
It rains every house during the yellow plum season, and frogs are everywhere in the grassy ponds.
I didn’t come over at midnight because I had an appointment, so I knocked on the chess pieces and let the lanterns fall.
Yuan Mei's "Inscription on the Peach Tree"
On a windy and rainy day in February, I feel the passage of time under the green peach blossoms.
There are still three thousand trees in Canhong, which are not as bright as the first blooming one.
Poems about meteorology and phenology Bai Juyi's "Farewell to the Ancient Grassland"
The grass grows in the original grassland, and it dries up every year.
The wildfire cannot be burned out, but the spring breeze blows it again.
The distant fragrance invades the ancient road, and the clear green meets the deserted city.
I sent the king and grandson off again, and the love was full of farewell.
Bai Juyi's "Visit to Dalin Temple in Lushan Mountain"
The beauty of April in the world is gone, and the peach blossoms in the mountain temple are beginning to bloom.
Eternal regret has no place to return to in spring, and I don’t know where to turn.
One of Du Fu's "Two Poems on the Water Threshold to Heart"
Going to Guoxuan Yingchang, there is no village to look at.
The Chengjiang River is flat on its banks, and the secluded trees have many flowers in the evening.
In the drizzle, fish come out, and in the breeze, swallows slant.
There are 100,000 households in the city, but there are only two or three here.
One of Du Fu's "Three Poems on the Screen"
Use clumsiness to preserve my way, and live in seclusion close to things.
The mulberry trees are covered with deep rain and dew, and the sparrows are half-grown.
The village drums are always in a hurry, and the fishing boats are all light.
The white head of the staff is white, and the heart is filled with happiness and clarity.
Jia Zhi's "Farewell to the Kings and Eight Members at Baling Night"
Farewell to Luoyang when the catkins are flying, and to Sanxiang after the plum blossoms bloom.
The feelings of the world have dispersed like floating clouds, and the separation and hatred are as long as the river.
"Ode to the Willow" by He Zhizhang
Jasper is made up into a tree as high as a tree, with thousands of green silk threads hanging down.
I don’t know who to cut out, the spring breeze in February is like scissors.
Ouyang Xiu's "Birds Cry"
When the Yang Qi comes to life in the poor mountains, everything seems to be competing with the seasons.
The deep flowers and leaves shine brightly in the bright sun, and the sun is warm and all the birds are singing.
One of Su Shi's "Evening Scenes on the Spring River in Hui Chong"
Three or two skills of peach blossoms outside the bamboo, a prophet of the warmth of the spring river.
The ground is covered with wormwood and short reed buds, which is when the puffer fish is about to come.
"A Visitor" by Zhao Shixiu
It rains every house during the yellow plum season, and frogs are everywhere in the grassy ponds.
I didn’t come over at midnight because I had an appointment, so I knocked on the chess pieces and let the lanterns fall.
Yuan Mei's "Inscription on the Peach Tree"
On a windy and rainy day in February, I feel the passage of time under the green peach blossoms.
There are still three thousand trees in Canhong, which are not as bright as the first blooming one.