Poems about myths and stories:
(Tang Dynasty) Li Shangyin's "Chang'e"
The shadows of candles on the mica screen are deep, and the dawn stars are gradually sinking in the long river.
Chang'e should regret stealing the elixir, and her heart will be filled with blue sea and blue sky every night.
(Song Dynasty) Liu Kezhuang's "Jingwei holds a stone to fill the sea"
Jingwei holds a grievance and commits suicide.
I only worry that the stones are easy to use up, but the sea is difficult to fill.
The soul remains in the illusion, and the flying sound is tired of punching.
How will it turn into a mulberry field if it is always covered with mustard seeds?
The cuckoo's cries turn to blood, and the owl beats the sky angrily.
Those who are brave will eventually end up in the Nian of Wu.
(Ming Dynasty) Hu Kui's "Two Ballads of Nuwa Mending the Sky·Part 2"
The sky is dark, the earth is dark, and Wa'e exercises the essence of heaven and earth.
Take five-color clouds in your hands and add blue and azure to the top.
The blue sky is as blue as stone, and the sky is not blocked by the pillars.
The zodiac stars are clear and clear, and the emperor was established in the year of Wansi.
(Tang Dynasty) "Sun Travel" by Li He
The sun sets in Kunlun, shining like silk.
It only illuminates the heart of sunflower seeds, but does not illuminate the sorrow of wandering people.
The Yellow River meanders, and the sun turns from the center.
Yanggu’s ears have heard it, but if it’s like a wooden eye, it can’t be seen.
No matter how hard it is, Hu is selling people.
Yi's bent bow failed to hit the target, and he was unable to run for a long time. He was confused by the morning light and the dusk.
(Song Dynasty) Liu Kezhuang's "One Hundred Miscellaneous Odes·Shen Nong"
I know that ginseng [shēn] is not poisonous, but I know that pansy will cause disaster.
Those who know how to try will die a hundred times and be reborn.
(Tang Dynasty) Li He's "Li Ping Konghou Yin"
Wu Si, Shutong and Zhang Gaoqiu, the empty mountain is condensed and the clouds are not flowing.
Jiang'e cries about the sorrow of the bamboo girl, and Li Ping plays the konghou in China.
The broken jade in Kunshan screams as a phoenix, the hibiscus weeps and the dew fragrant orchid smiles.
The cold light melts in front of the twelve doors, and the twenty-three silk threads move the purple emperor.
Where Nuwa refines stones to mend the sky, the stones break the sky and amaze the autumn rain.
I dreamed of entering the sacred mountain to teach the goddess, and the old fish danced the thin dragon dance.
Wu Zhi sleepless and leans against the osmanthus tree, flying wet and cold rabbits sideways with bare feet.