At the foot of Beibao Mountain, there is a green hill with a berth on Wangke (Tang) Road. My boat and I are going along the green water. Until the river bank widens at low tide, and no wind blows my lonely sail. ... night gives way to the ocean of the sun, and the old year melts in freshness. I can finally send my messenger, the wild goose, back to Luoyang.
"Smelling the flute in Los Angeles on a Spring Night" Li Bai's "The rain flute flies in the dark", and the spring breeze permeates Los Angeles.
"Tianjingsha Qiu Si" Dead vines and old trees faint crows, small bridges and flowing water. The ancient road is sparse, the sun sets, and heartbroken people are in the end of the world. "I heard that Wang Changling moved to the left and Long Biao was sent here." Huayang fell to the ground, and Wendaolong crossed five streams. My heart is full of sorrow, and the moon is full of sorrow. I will always follow you until Yelangxi.