"Qingpingle·Rain and clear smoke at night"
Five Dynasties·Feng Yansi
The rain and clear smoke at night are full of green water and new ponds.
Twin swallows fly to the weeping willow courtyard, and the curtains of the small pavilion are rolled up.
At dusk, I lean against Zhulan alone, with the crescent moon eyebrows in the southwest.
The flowers are falling and the wind is blowing, and the clothes are especially cold in spring.
This little poem describes the scene of a woman living alone and sad, looking forward to her husband's return.
On a rainy and sunny night, the pond is full of green water, with weeping willows and swallows clad in it. A girl is leaning on the railing and gazing at the crescent moon in the southwest. The desolate feeling and deep depression of Gu Mian are indescribable.
"Huanxisha·The wind on the Polygonum bank is fragrant with tangerine and grapefruit"
Five Dynasties·Sun Guangxian
The wind on the Polygonum bank is fragrant with the scent of tangerine and pomelo. Looking at Chu Tianchang from the riverside.
The sails are shining with light in the smoke.
Watching Zheng Hong flying away, my thoughts drift away with the flowing water.
The blue, red, and blue waves recall Xiaoxiang.
The shore is covered with polygonum flowers, and the strong fragrance of orange sleeves floats in the wind. I stand on the riverside and look out into the distance. The clear sky is clear, and the river is flowing to the east. The lone sail sailing away casts a little white light at the intersection of water and sky.
My eyes followed the flying swan until his figure disappeared into the distance. Thoughts are like an endless river, drifting with the vast waves. The red orchids of autumn and the blue waves of the river will definitely make him miss the affectionate Xiaoxiang.
"Sauvignon Blanc·One Mountain"
Five Dynasties·Li Yu
One mountain, two mountains.
The mountains are far away, the sky is high, the smoke is cold, the water is cold, and I miss the red maple leaves.
The chrysanthemums are blooming, but the chrysanthemums are withered.
The flying geese have not returned yet, and the wind and moon are idle behind the curtain.
This poem writes about a missing woman’s infinite sorrow for her deceased friend.
One layer after another, overlapping mountains. The mountains are so far away, the sky is so high, the smoke and water vapor are cold and cold, but my thoughts are like flaming maple leaves.
The chrysanthemums bloom and fall, and the days pass by. The wild geese in the northern part of the country flap their wings and fly south, but the person I miss has not come back yet. The bright moon shines on the curtain, fluttering in the wind.