Su Shi's "Niannujiao Red Cliff Nostalgia" (all destroyed by rolling waves)
Xin Qiji's "Nanxiangzi Entering Beijing, Gu Bei Ting Huai" (swallowing mountains and rivers, Jin Ge Tie Ma Meng)
Li Qingzhao's Dream (green and fat, red and thin ...) (I don't know about Jun Jun, but the scenes are bitter and cold. Beauty blinds, tears look at flowers)
Xin Qiji's Breaking the Array (Drunk to See the Sword) Li Bai's Drinking the Bright Moon Alone (How many times can a person get drunk in his life? )
Bai Juyi's Pipa (I don't know who first saw the moon on a moonlit night in spring)
Su Shi's When Is the Bright Moon (from now on, thousands of miles away, illuminating the loneliness of people who don't sleep every night)
China in Tang Poetry
Perhaps, in each of us, there is a little Tang Dynasty hidden in our hearts. So, today, the Tang suit is back in our wardrobe, and the Chinese knot is tied on our skirts and shirts again. The songs of the Tang Dynasty are wrapped in the shell of rock and roll, echoing in our ears again and again ... There are 110,000 reasons to love China. Choose the most romantic reason to love her-Tang poetry was born in the Tang Dynasty, which was born in China, and China has unique Tang poetry in the world. I love Tang poetry, and I love China even more.
Standing on the long river of the century, looking at the shepherd boy's finger, pointing to an eternal poetic prosperity. The Tang dynasty was a song and dance dynasty, and it was a Tang dynasty with clothes and feathers. The books of Tang poetry are full of soul and eternity, and the words of Tang poetry are full of words and pens are full of flowers. Whether it's the tragic feelings of a strong man in the battlefield who never returns to his husband, or the feelings of a lady in a boudoir who misses her daughter to spend the autumn moon, the beauty of Tang poetry is absolutely beautiful and lasting, whether it hurts people's hearts, whether it has gone through the sea, whether it is inspiring or bleak.
Reading three hundred Tang poems and then reading one is like pulling out a rusty Gu Jian. In the cold light and darkness, there is a soul shining with an immortal hero who respects success or failure: fearless in life and death, swallowing mountains and rivers, dreaming of iron horses, roaring back and forth in the sky … all lost in the rolling waves. What a heroic Tang poem! Reading a Tang poem is like opening an ancient rouge box, and in the dense fragrance, a sigh of unfortunate beauty rises. I don't know about Jun Jun, but it's miserable and cold. Beauty curtain, tears look at flowers, how many lonely spring skirts are dyed red with pink tears! What a beautiful Tang poem! Shallow talk, wipe tears and cover up the volume.
The bells of Hanshan Temple linger, spreading their wings across time and space, flying over the world of mortals, like wild geese singing like flutes, and the sound is stirring. Things have changed, and the years are impermanent. How many emperors have changed! Tang Zong Song Zu, throwing halberds and sinking sand, powder 3 thousand, sighing idle. Wealth and fame are fleeting, and the king dominates the Ganges and disappears. Only the bells of Hanshan Temple outside Gusu City are still repeating the eternal twilight. Jiang Feng's fishing in the Tang Dynasty lingered forever in the poems of the next generation, beating the sleepless nights on earth.
Moonlight in the Tang Dynasty. I don't know who first saw the moon on a moonlit night by the river. Since then, thousands of miles have been trickling to illuminate the loneliness of people who never sleep every night. The moon is the hometown of wanderers, so bright a gleam on the foot of my bed is always the frost and dew of homesickness, and the moon is the concern of homesick women. In the sound of smashing clothes, the brightness is decreasing every night. The moon is a lonely man's drinking friend, wandering around with my shadow, making the three of us toasters.
The wine in the Tang Dynasty was very strong. The poet has been attracted to raise a glass to drown his sorrows. He has changed his money for wine, but he wants to get drunk. Three glasses of wine can lead to Confucianism, and it is natural for Taoism to drink it all in one game. How many times can a person be intoxicated in his life? The breeze pours wine into the river and looks at the sword when drunk. When you are drunk, you forget the honor and disgrace of the world, and the world is cold. At present, the wine is strong, and I am full of pride if I come to a pot of spirits.
The pain of parting in the Tang Dynasty. Baqiao River is gurgling, and willow shadows keep flowing. Mulan's canoe has been urged to leave her sorrow, which caused an autumn rain last night and increased the endless water flow. What can't be kept after the wicker is broken is the footsteps of Iraqis, and what can't be kept after the clothes are broken, as well as the skirts of years. A farewell song, two lines of tears, Xiang Jun Xiaoxiang and me Qin Xiang. It is said that there are people in the west who go out of Yangguan for no reason. Where can I meet you again?
Poets in the Tang Dynasty were noble. A pot of wine, a sword, a waning moon. Dancing and drinking all the way Dance a sword in the prosperous Tang Dynasty and drink a fallen fairy in the poetry circle. Drunk in Chang 'an, the son of heaven is hard to find, not a whitewash, not a hollow reputation. Laugh and sigh proudly, 90,000 Li Fengpeng is a positive move. The sea laughed and sent boats to travel all over the rivers and mountains of the old country. How can you ruin your eyebrows in life?
In the Tang Dynasty, red was quite unlucky. On the blade, the long sleeves are wide and comfortable, the dance is light and graceful, and the clouds are full of flowers and tears. Everyone envies riding a princess and laughing in the world of mortals. Who pities Maweipo for hiding the wind with a touch of loess? Love is unreliable, and color is unreliable. I have been charming all my life, and I don't know who will give up accepting it. In the hall of eternal life, there is a long life and death, and this hatred is endless.
Ten thousand volumes disappear forever from ancient times to modern times, and a window fades to send the fleeting time. Three hundred poems have been deposited in the wind for thousands of years. Make a cup of chrysanthemum tea, hold a roll of "300 Tang Poems", and listen to the talk of the late rain. In the middle of the night, the wind blew through the curtains outside the window, and I suddenly forgot what night it was.
Tang is in the body, Tang poetry is in the hand, and the motherland is in the heart.