Who has a love poem?

"Four Treatises on Cooking Wine and Poetry" Love does not mention poetry, but it rains in Dongshan and sunny in Xishan. I really can't figure out what a flock of egrets are doing in the sky. "With Li He * * *" (excerpt) Love, in your affectionate eyes, there is a pot of newly brewed Tang and Song carved flowers, Ming Che. Finally, it was poured into my small glass. I tried to shake your favorite seven laws in the jar. Then I saw the clouds rising and flying, your skin broke into pieces in the wilderness, and I heard ghosts crying and wolves howling. I want to have a drink with you on the darkest night in history. Neither you nor I are idle people. How can you worry about drinking if you don't enter 300 Tang poems? Tonight's moon will probably not shine for our eternal gathering. I will write an obscure poem for you while it is dark. If you don't understand, let them understand why we laugh at each other after reading it. Love, she was promoted to a very sad serial by a rope, and every window could be searched by a flute. Her unlucky scholar who went to Beijing to try was silent. She flickered into the newly closed thread-bound book. Zhi Lin, you stand on the bridge and watch the scenery. The bright moon decorated your window, and you decorated other people's dreams. "Tibetan Psalm 38" Zhang Xiangyu asked for water, asked the horse for direction, and asked the Buddha for the origin of my life. And I am a dust that broke whose heart? One Buddha and two fools. How can you recognize me in this life at a glance in the afterlife? That one, where's the shepherd boy? Qinghai is green, and there are times when the world is not peaceful; What shall we do? Yellow River, Yellow River, your songs are everywhere. What do we do? On the Sun Moon Mountain, the night bodhisattva is silent and dignified; What are we doing? You put my reincarnation in the wrong place! What shall we do? I know you are herding sheep, but I don't know which mountain you are on: what shall we do? Knowing that you are in the world, I don't know where you are. What shall we do? The good days at the source of the Three Rivers have been wasted; What shall we do? When will I meet you again in this world ... (Excerpt) Many languages in the North Island fly and collide in this world, resulting in Mars, sometimes hatred and sometimes love. If the menu is dreamy, the bill is sober, such as prose, tips are stingy, such as manuscript fees and food poisoning, vomiting is critical.