"Snail" Author: Laughing Yu Zi
Pack your bags,
Looking for the distance,
You, as always.
It hurts,
The sadness caused by chaos,
You are still strong.
A heavy shell surrounds you,
A long road awaits you,
Even if there is a red and green shadow behind him,
You still don't change your mind.
The pain is on you,
Fatigue binds you,
You just hang the years on pears mercilessly,
Then say: I have no regrets.
The sky smiles at you;
Butterfly, by your side,
You know,
Your insignificance in their hearts.
Falling again and again,
Stand up, stand up again,
But it embodies an unyielding backbone.
What pain is more painful than giving up,
What worries me more than failure?
Accusations after accusations,
Going forward again and again,
I'm not full of melancholy at all.
In the breeze,
I see,
You pick up the sunshine,
A lamp, a lamp,
A lamp, a lamp,
Bring back the distant fragrance of gardenia.
Ancient poems:
Buju
Year: Tang Author: Bai Juyi
After traveling in Kyoto for twenty years, there is no place to be poor.
It is better to hide than to envy snails.
However, I ask for a place to stand on a cone, so as not to be like a puppet drifter.
However, I am satisfied and dare to bid farewell to the noise.
"Qinyuan Spring is due again, thinking about Gai Lou."
Year: Song Author: Xin Qiji
A stream of water comes from the west, and thousands of feet has a clear rainbow and a ten-mile green screen. I like the thatched cottage after I was 20 years old, and I will come back to Du Lao to live up to the good scenery of Xiechuan. The old crane flies high, and after a night, the snail wears the house and laughs. It is flat. Live in a nice place and set up a pavilion.
Castle peak is full of spirit. Like charming life for my return. Solve the frequency to teach flowers and birds, dance before songs, and urge clouds and water to send them to the DPRK at dusk. A wine saint and a poet may not have power, but I am in charge of you now. On the banks of the Qingxi River, the mountain gods laugh, and the white hair belongs to the farmer.
Jiangyue Hanshan
Year: Yuan Author: Liu
Du Yu's voice is alive, and winning or losing lies in the snail's horn. The name of the golden gull is controversial. In autumn, the lake is bright as a mirror. The willow smoke is heavy and the lotus moon is cold. It is not surprising to keep the branches unchanged for ten thousand years. The flute next door goes home every night.
The fifth rhyme of the second ancient poem
Year: Meta Author: Wang Mian
The ancient soil shames the strong men, and the embroidery is expensive.
Habitual insect fish, romantic goose tour.
Sometimes pitching, thinking about the past.
But even if it rains at night, snails are still on the stone bed.