The famous poems about peonies are as follows:
1. "Appreciating Peonies" by Liu Yuxi of the Tang Dynasty. The peony demon in front of the court has no character, and the hibiscus on the pond is pure and less sentimental. Only peonies are the true national beauty, and they move the capital when they bloom.
Translation: The peonies in front of the court are enchanting and showy but lack structure; the lotus in the pond is elegant and clean but lacks charm. Only peonies are the true beauty of the sky and the country. When they bloom, they attract countless people to admire them and startle the entire capital.
2. "Ode to the Peony" by Chen Yuyi of the Song Dynasty. Since Hu Chen entered Hanguan, the road to Yiluo has been long for ten years. Longzhongguo by the Qingdun River, looking at peonies in the independent east wind.
Translation: Since the iron hoofs of the Jin people crushed the rivers and mountains of the motherland, ten years have passed since I looked back at my hometown of Luoyang, and it was still a long and hopeless road home. As an old man named Longzhong in a foreign land, when he saw the peonies blooming by the Qingdun River, he was reminded of the peonies in Luoyang. He could only stand alone in the spring breeze and watch silently.
3. "Red Peony" by Wang Wei of the Tang Dynasty. The green color is leisurely and quiet, and the red clothes are light and deep. The heart of the flower is sad and ready to die, but the beauty of spring does not know the heart.
Translation: The peony leaves are bright green, quiet and elegant; the petals of the peony are light and dark in color. Facing withering, peonies are heartbroken. May I ask Spring, do you understand what peonies are thinking.
4. "Selling Broken Peonies" by Yu Xuanji of the Tang Dynasty. The flowers are sighing and falling in the wind, and the fragrance disappears again in spring. It should be that the price is high and no one cares about it, but the relationship is so fragrant that it is difficult for a butterfly to kiss it. Hongying is only called the palace of birth, and the green leaves are stained by road dust. When he moved to Linyuan, Wang Sunfang hated buying without reason.
Translation: I often sigh that too many flowers have been blown down by the strong wind, and the fragrance gradually disappears and it will take another spring. It may be that the price is too high and people don't dare to ask, and the fragrance is too strong for butterflies to get close to. Only the royal palace is worthy of growing such flowers. How can we bear to let them be stained with dust on the road? When the flowers were transplanted to the Shanglin Garden of the palace, the nobles regretted not buying them.