The leaves are hidden in the bottom of the valley, the mountains are foggy, and shepherds and morning glory pass through the mountains.
Tomb-Sweeping Day's Song Poetry, Whispering Stories.
A butterfly in love with flowers
Su Shi
Spring is fading and the grass is resting. The view from the guest room and Tomb-Sweeping Day.
People remember to say goodbye at dusk in the courtyard. Birds are everywhere.
Close at hand, mountains and rivers divide into Chu and Yue. Eye broken soul pin, answer the dust off.
The dream is broken and my heart is broken. The sound of the horn blows the plum blossom moon.
Wan Lichun
Zhou Bangyan
Thousands of red and green. Sunny weather.
Because of his pity and all kinds of fragrance, it is hard not to get drunk.
I love you as much as you do. My heart is in my heart.
I will look at each other, but I will be old and happy.
A butterfly in love with flowers
Yan Dao Ji
If you want to reduce the cold in Luoyi, you will not roll the bead curtain, but people will roll it deeply.
How many flowers are there on the branches of apricot trees? Article red hates Qingming rain.
A wisp of cigarettes sinks every day. Waking up late after staying up late annoyed the mood of spring.
Yuan Xin was also mistakenly hit by Yan. Small screen on Xijiang Road.
Man Jiang Hong
Xin Qiji
I live in the south of the Yangtze River, and I have had a cold food.
In the flower garden, there was a storm and a mess.
Running water with red powder is dark, and the garden gradually feels clear and dense.
Every year, the Erythrina flowers fall, and the cold is weak.
The yard was quiet and empty. There is nothing to say, nothing to worry about.
I am afraid of stray Inging and Swallow, and I know the news.
The ruler is nowhere now, and the colorful clouds are still gone.
Teach people, be ashamed to go upstairs, be flat and green.
A butterfly in love with flowers
Ouyang Xiu
Just think it over. Small sill by the window, small residual flower pendant.
Liang Yan's words made him sleepy, and the screen was half covered with a fragrant quilt.
The scenery of the new wind is like the old wind, gradually handing over.
Even if there is a sense of distance, it is difficult to write and send.
Sword and song
Yan Shu
Swallow came to the news agency, after the Qingming Festival in pear flower falls.
At three or four o'clock on the pond, there are one or two orioles at the bottom of the leaves.
The days are long and the catkins are light, and you laugh at the oriental female companion.
Picking mulberry trails to please everyone, I suspect I had a good dream last night.
Today, Yuan won by fighting grass, and there was laughter on both sides.
Qingmenyin
Zhang Xian
It was warm at first, then it was light and cold, and the storm came late.
Tingxuan was lonely and near Qingming, full of wine, and fell ill last year.
The wind wakes up in the corner of the building and the door is quiet at night.
It was seen by the bright moon and the partition wall.
Dianjiang Chunchun Silk
Zhao Ding
Sweet and cold gold stove, sweet and tender after dreams.
No one asked, Jiangnan hated it.
I lost weight, rested, and suddenly felt that the spring shirt had faded.
Qingming is approaching, the apricot blossoms are blown out, and the east wind is tight at dusk.
Xiangchun jathyapple
Huang xiaomai
Near Qingming, the soul disappeared in the branches of the bluebird. It's a pity that a serenade is given to dusk.
Want to * * * Liu Hua low v, afraid of Liu Hua frivolous, don't know how to hurt the spring.
Miss Chu Xiang, stay at home and be gentle. Who are you gentle with?
Empty bottles cry at night, the green hills are silent, and the waning moon is the door.
In front of Yulou, there is only a wave of Xiang water, swaying Xiang clouds.
Dream is short, when to ask, see peach root again.
This time, for the first time in the world, there is no parallel knife to cut off the sad mark on the mind.
Wang Haichao is clear and eternal.
the Chen Dynasty
Three-point spring scenery is very official and makes people feel lonely.
Who knows the benefits of gardens?
Remember the days when I used to travel. Begonia Poetry in Malaysia and Red Medicine.
Farewell to Dong Jun, looking back on another year.