Qinyuanchun Changsha
In the cold autumn of Independence, the Xiangjiang River goes north, at the head of Orange Island, where hundreds of boats compete for the current. The eagle strikes the sky, the fish flies to the bottom, and everything is free from the frosty sky. Feeling lonely and lonely, I ask who is in charge of the ups and downs of the vast land?
I brought hundreds of couples to travel, recalling the glorious past. Qia was a young boy who was a classmate, he was in his prime, he was a scholar, and he scolded Fang Qiu. Point out the country, inspire words, and the dung is waiting for thousands of households. Have you ever remembered? When you hit the water in the middle of the current, the waves stopped the flying boat!