Author: Yu Guangzhong
What is the sound of rain all night?
The lamp upstairs asked the tree outside the window:
The tree outside the window asked the car around the corner:
What is the sound of rain all night?
Cars at the corner of the driveway ask for directions in the distance.
The distant road asks the bridge upstream,
What is the sound of rain all night?
The bridge upstream needs an umbrella for several hours.
When I was young, my umbrella asked me to wet my shoes.
What is the sound of rain all night?
Wet shoes asked the screaming frog:
The barking frog asked about the fog around him.
What are you talking about, the rain all night?
The fog around asked the lights upstairs,
The lamp upstairs asked the man under the lamp:
The man under the lamp looked up and said:
Why hasn't it stopped?
From legend to now,
From flying to patting,
From the eaves to the rivers and seas,
Ask you, stupid moss,
What is the sound of rain all night?
2. The bleakest voice, the sweetest voice.
Author: Dickinson
The bleakest voice, the sweetest voice,
The craziest voice, more and more clear-
That's the singing of birds in spring,
At that beautiful moment, the night will disappear.
Between March and April—
Once you cross that wonderful border,
Hesitant summer is like heaven,
You can almost reach out and take it off.
It reminds us of all the dead people,
They used to walk here with us,
Isolated from each other, but more eager,
This is a cruel separation spell.
It reminds us of everything we have,
Now there are only sentimental memories left.
We almost hope that these lovely Sai Ren
Can fly far away, leaving silence.
Ears can pierce the heart,
As fast as a spear,
I hope there is no heart in the world,
Living next to dangerous ears.
3. Nightingale
Author: Nishikawa
At the end of the night,
What color birds are they,
Skim through the city.
Their screams were loud,
They are closer to their dreams,
They belong to a happy race,
What color birds are they,
Their secret,
Forget to fly away.
The sound of leaves in summer,
The sound of autumn streams,
Not as good as the sound of a night bird.
I can't see them,
Bodies, maybe they,
Just some happy voices.
4, the poem of death (a)
Author: Haizi
In the dark night, a laugh broke my tombstone.
Do you know that?/You know what? This is a land where tigers are buried.
Like a burning tiger across the water,
Your laughter makes the river float,
Tiger,
Two broken bones,
Just as the river began to freeze in laughter,
The broken-legged tiger came down the river to my mine,
By the window.
A wooden board for burying tigers,
Split in two by laughter.
5. Listening to music in the middle of the night
Author: Lin
This must be your finger again,
Flip,
In the middle of the night, I feel sad;
I can't help blushing,
Listen quietly,
The vivid scene of midnight black boy.
Listen to my heart,
Terrible,
I know, but how can I respond?
Life has already defined her style,
Too weak,
It is people's beautiful imagination.
Unless there is such a day in my dream,
You and me,
Let's climb the string of hope.
2. Modern poetry describes the sound 1. What does the rain sound say? Author: What is the rain in Yu Guangzhong saying all night? The lamp upstairs asks the tree outside the window, and the tree outside the window asks the car at the corner. What did the rain say all night? The car at the corner of the lane asks the long way, and the long way asks the bridge upstream. What is the sound of rain all night? What about the upstream bridge? Hours of umbrellas, hours of umbrellas and wet shoes, and the sound of rain all night? Wet shoes ask the screaming frog, and the screaming frog asks the fog around. What did you say, the rain all night? The fog around asks the lamp upstairs, and the lamp upstairs asks the people under the lamp. The man under the lamp looked up and said, why haven't you stopped? From legend to now, from rain to splashing water, from leaking eaves to rivers and seas, I ask you, silly moss, what did the rain sound all night say? 2, the bleakest voice, the sweetest voice Author: Dickinson's bleakest voice, the sweetest voice, the craziest voice, more and more clear-that is the singing of birds in spring, at that beautiful moment, the night will disappear.
Between March and April-once you cross that wonderful border, the hesitant summer is like heaven, and you can almost reach for it. It reminds us of all the dead people who walked here with us, isolated from each other, but more eager. This is a cruel parting spell.
It reminds us of everything we once had, and now only sentimental memories are left. We almost hope that these lovely Sai Ren can fly away, leaving a silence.
Ears can pierce the heart as quickly as spears. I hope no heart in the world lives next to a dangerous ear. 3, night bird Author: Give up the night is coming to an end, what color birds fly over the city.
They cry loudly, they are closer to their dreams, they belong to a happy race, what color are the birds, and fly away with their secrets and forgetfulness. The sound of leaves in summer and the sound of streams in autumn are not as good as the sound of night birds.
But I can't see their bodies. Maybe they are just happy voices. 4, the poem of death (1) Author: Haizi in the dark night, there is a kind of laughter broke my grave board, you know.
This is a land where tigers are buried. Just like a fiery tiger crossing the water, your laughter floats across the river and the tiger breaks two bones. Just when the river began to freeze the laughter in the dark, the tiger with a broken leg went downstream and came to my window.
A piece of wood that buried a tiger was split in half by a loud laugh. 5, in the middle of the night to hear music Author: Lin this must be your fingers flick again, in this late night, dense with sadness; I can't help blushing, listening to the vividness of Black Boy in the middle of the night.
I'm sad to hear that, I know, but how can I respond? Life has long defined her style, which is too light and a beautiful imagination. Unless there is such a day in my dream, you and I will climb the strings of hope together.
3. Modern poetry and sound, good mood and primitive literature >> Poetry >> Sleepless ears are accompanied by sound poetry, and listening to your lingering voice, modern poetry is cold and affectionate. Coffee or cigarettes at noon, a butterfly's dream (outside 1) The lonely hand of modern poetry is lighter. Please be gentle. Modern poetry in this life, I see the moon in the water. Modern Poetry Redmi's "Wenchuan Earthquake"-The Voice from Heaven (turn) Modern Poetry wants to go home to see Modern Poetry Week in Sichuan, don't cry, China, come on! Modern poetry is a song for wine. Modern poetry, the deep affection for the moon is related to modern poetry. Lonely hands fell in love with modern poetry. The artistic conception of modern poetry is blown by the wind. I feel pain, written in Jiangnan modern poetry. Are there still flowers in the paradise of modern poetry? Insomnia ears, listen to your lingering voice. Modern poetry is deeply in love with the noon of modern poetry. A Butterfly's Dream (I) The lonely hand in modern poetry is lighter. Please be gentle. Modern Poetry In this life, I look at the moon in the water. Modern Poetry "Wenchuan Earthquake"-Voice from Heaven (turn) Modern Poetry Want to go home and see Sichuan modern poetry, don't cry, China, come on! Modern poetry is a song for wine. Modern poetry is related to love. The lonely hand of modern poetry falls in love with the song. The artistic conception of modern poetry is blown by the wind. I feel pain. After turning around, he wrote it in the paradise of modern poetry in Jiangnan like modern poetry. Is modern poetry still fragrant?
4. Ancient poems about sound were all described by sound:
Early cicada Tang Bai Juyi-On the seventh day of June, cicadas sang on the river. In the deep leaves of heather, there are two or three sounds at dusk.
Pipa goes hand in hand with Tang Bai Juyi-the big strings hum like rain, and the small strings whisper like a secret. Humming, whispering-and then mixing together, like pouring large and small pearls into a plate of jade. Between Guan Ying's words, the bottom of the flower is slippery, so you can't swallow the spring scenery and flow under the ice. The ice spring is cold and astringent, and the strings condense, and the condensation will never stop. The depth of sadness and the hiding of sadness are more told in silence than in voice. A silver vase suddenly burst, pouring out a stream of water, jumping out of the conflict and blow between armored horses and weapons. Before she put down the pick, her stroke was over, and all four strings made a sound, just like tearing silk.
The rooster crows at dawn, Tang-at dawn, the rooster crows in the forest and falls into the frog palace with a sound. Two calls to break the pillow dream, three pedestrians smoke sea red.
Chicken Tang Cui Dao Rong-windy and rainy night in the mountains, I want to crow before dawn.
Give Tang Geng a cold snap-who did it? It rang long ago and repeatedly covered the steps.
Playing the flute, Du Fu in the Tang Dynasty-playing the flute in autumn is clear, the wind and the moon are clear, and making heartbroken sounds skillfully.
Li Bai, the Tang Dynasty flute in Los Angeles on a spring night-his flute flies in the dark, and the spring breeze fills Los Angeles.
Smell the flute sound of the Tang Dynasty, Rong Yu-I miss it in the dead of night, and the flute sound is even sadder.
Bai Juyi-Shu Mu Tong Gu, Chu Si Qing Yun. Play slowly, play slowly, a dozen times in the middle of the night.
In the wind, the Qin and Lu Tong in the Tang Dynasty-thirteen emblems, five tones and six rhythms, dragons singing and humming and thinking.
Listen to the piano and Meng Jiao in Tang Dynasty —— Whispering the rain and turning oak leaves.
Tang Huangfu Ran, a sad ape endowed with Tao, went deep into the Woods and entered the lonely city.
Wuxia listened to the howling of the no.1 ape-Bajiang ape, and it was painful and rang into the passenger ship. Lonely pillow breaks dreams, three sounds follow the breeze.
Describe by voice:
Early cicada Tang Bai Juyi-On the seventh day of June, cicadas sang on the river. In the deep leaves of heather, there are two or three sounds at dusk.
Pipa goes hand in hand with Tang Bai Juyi-the big strings hum like rain, and the small strings whisper like a secret. Humming, whispering-and then mixing together, like pouring large and small pearls into a plate of jade. Between Guan Ying's words, the bottom of the flower is slippery, so you can't swallow the spring scenery and flow under the ice. The ice spring is cold and astringent, and the strings condense, and the condensation will never stop. The depth of sadness and the hiding of sadness are more told in silence than in voice. A silver vase suddenly burst, pouring out a stream of water, jumping out of the conflict and blow between armored horses and weapons. Before she put down the pick, her stroke was over, and all four strings made a sound, just like tearing silk.
The rooster crows at dawn, Tang-at dawn, the rooster crows in the forest and falls into the frog palace with a sound. Two calls to break the pillow dream, three pedestrians smoke sea red.
Chicken Tang Cui Dao Rong-windy and rainy night in the mountains, I want to crow before dawn.
Give Tang Geng a cold snap-who did it? It rang long ago and repeatedly covered the steps.
Playing the flute, Du Fu in the Tang Dynasty-playing the flute in autumn is clear, the wind and the moon are clear, and making heartbroken sounds skillfully.
Li Bai, the Tang Dynasty flute in Los Angeles on a spring night-his flute flies in the dark, and the spring breeze fills Los Angeles.
Smell the flute sound of the Tang Dynasty, Rong Yu-I miss it in the dead of night, and the flute sound is even sadder.
Bai Juyi-Shu Mu Tong Gu, Chu Si Qing Yun. Play slowly, play slowly, a dozen times in the middle of the night.
In the wind, the Qin and Lu Tong in the Tang Dynasty-thirteen emblems, five tones and six rhythms, dragons singing and humming and thinking.
Listen to the piano and Meng Jiao in Tang Dynasty —— Whispering the rain and turning oak leaves.
Tang Huangfu Ran, a sad ape endowed with Tao, went deep into the Woods and entered the lonely city.
Wuxia listened to the howling of the no.1 ape-Bajiang ape, and it was painful and rang into the passenger ship. Lonely pillow breaks dreams, three sounds follow the breeze.
Wei Wuying, on the Xixi River in Chuzhou.
Alone, grass grows by the stream, and orioles sing on the trees. The spring tide brought the rain late and urgent, and there was no boat on the wild crossing.
Excerpt from Baidu Know-dinghui1366' s answer
5. Modern poetic voice about family voice
Dad's voice is like the sound of gongs and drums in the Spring Festival.
Knock, knock, knock, knock.
Flapping high in the sky
Mother's voice is like a warm rain.
It is dripping.
Moisten my heart
Grandma's voice is like a slow autumn wind.
Sasha Vujacic, Sasha Vujacic.
Blowing through the Woods and bumper fields
My sister's voice is full of birds singing.
Chirp, chirp
Bring joy and freshness to the tree.
My voice is a beautiful blessing.
I hope my home is a sunny Yuan Ye.
6. Modern poets who are suitable for hoarse recitation will have emotional reactions when listening to poems. How many emotional reactions are produced is related to the following factors:
First, the quality of the speaker's voice itself (this is related to the reader);
The second is the sense of rhythm (the poet's responsibility is to provide the beat sign, and the reciter should show the potential rhythm);
Thirdly, poetic imagery (which is related to the quality of poetry and the cultivation of the audience);
Fourth, the personal situation of the reciter (being famous and beautiful helps to improve the openness of readers).
The difference between listening to poetry and listening to songs is only the order of these factors. The order of importance of listening to songs is:
(2), (4), (1) and (3)
The above passage is pure nonsense. Really speaking, reading poetry texts is good on the one hand. The reader's grasp of emotion is one aspect.
If your voice is really hoarse, I think you must be over a few decades old, and you must have your own understanding of life and the inherent nature of poetry. Bottom line: grasp the pause and ups and downs. Here are some songs to recommend.
The dodo river in Amsterdam
The Last Contact by Shi Tiesheng
Love is beyond smoke.
Gomez night, I'm waiting for someone at Cape Rhodes.
Haizi's diary
Anyway, I just thought of a few random songs. Try it in a low voice.
7. Poems describing voices 1 Bai Juyi: Pipa-playing.
Big strings hum like rain, and small strings whisper like secrets.
Humming, whispering-and then mixing together, like pouring large and small pearls into a plate of jade.
Guan Yingying's ass was slippery when she spoke, and we heard a stream sobbing painfully on the beach.
By checking its cold touch, this string seems to be broken, as if it can't pass; And notes, fade away.
The depth of sadness and the hiding of sadness are more told in silence than in voice.
A silver vase suddenly burst, pouring out a stream of water, jumping out of the conflict and blow between armored horses and weapons.
Before she put down the pick, her stroke was over, and all four strings made a sound, just like tearing silk.
2 Lu Xun has a poem "Giving Gifts" (the second poem): "The Qin female lets jade kites fly, and Liang Chen warms the night wind, and suddenly the ice strings are ringing, and the stars are ringing all over the sky."
3 guzheng poems
I couldn't stop singing last night.
It's already midnight.
Stand up and walk around the steps alone.
When people are quiet, the moon is bright outside the curtain.
Whitehead is fame.
Old mountain pine and bamboo are old, which hinders the return journey.
I want to talk to Yao Qin.
There are few confidants, who will listen to the broken string?
Xiao Zhongshan of Yue Fei
Zheng mingzhu,
Shining on the golden harp,
In order to attract Zhou Yu's keen eyes,
She sometimes touches the wrong note.
Li Duan listened to zheng.
Under the north window of Guqin,
The night sounds clear and sad.
High chords break easily,
A broken heart cannot bend the road.
Xiaogang is playing guzheng.
There is a divine comedy upstairs,
I want to break my string and urge it again and again.
Jiang Fei listened to the fog and rain,
White waves are flying, and jade is floating.
Call me double phoenix trough,
Give it to orphans in the Three Gorges.
Playing Fang Chundiao with Jun,
Pick up firewood and frost branches.
Su Shi's Guzheng
Qin Zheng speaks out of tune,
Yuzhu sings Qingqu,
The string is high and broken,
The sound continues with the beautiful fingers.
I heard voices around the beam,
Know Yan Ruyu better.
Shen Yue's Ode to Zheng
Beauty is the window of sunshine,
String players play the Zheng in sign language.
The spring breeze blew off the king's ears,
This song is Ascension to Heaven.
Li Bai's Spring Journey
When you are in a remote place, Qin Zheng will reappear.
Zhang Jiuling listened to Zheng.
The bright moon shines on people in ancient times, and the curtain opens to play jade Zheng.
Chang Jian's "Playing the Zheng at Night in Tall Buildings"
Bao Zheng's cymbals are overcast and dusty, and Zhang Jin draws still.
Liao Rong's "Quit the Palace Prostitute"
Why Zheng Qing lingered and Lv Yun was hanged?
Li Bai is visiting prostitutes in Nanting, Handan.
Where to mourn Zheng, follow the urgent principle, cherry blossoms hang down Yongxiang Yangya.
Four Untitled Poems by Li Shangyin
There are still cymbals and kites behind the curtain. It's too late to see them. I don't know.
Zheng Song, a Yao Beauty after the Banquet by Lu Lun.
When a woman is in trouble, her heart is cold.
Fifty Poems of Li Shangyin's "Send the General to Que"
Guzheng plays oriental music, and Qin Xian plays western music.
Li Bai's "Antique" 54
It's breezy in Wansongting, so listen to a piano.
Liu Yuxi's "Hurt Qin Sisters"
The long night is full of affectionate silver, guarding the empty room with fear and jealousy, and can't bear to sleep.
Yu Ya's Autumn Night
Nearly 20 poems by Bai Juyi mentioned Zheng. The poem "Zheng" describes a female pianist's exquisite performance: "The clouds are blue and white, the autumn water cuts off the eyes, and the onions peel off the fingers". Zhang Gui wrote two sentences in "Zheng": "Blue pillars are born in the night wind, and red strings are swallowed by spring water", describing the characteristics of the sound of the Zheng like water. What's more, "Listening to Zheng" and "Jin" in the Romance of the Three Kingdoms written by Li Duan all shine on the golden harp. If you want to take care of her, she touches a wrong sound from time to time. "This poem shows people Zhou Yu's mastery of temperament skills.
The bright moon shines on people, and the curtain opens to play jade Zheng.
The mountain is high and the ape is in a hurry, and the sky is quiet and the geese are singing.
The curvature is still unfinished, and the east wind and summer are half-dead.
Jin Su's guzheng makes a beautiful sound, and the beauty of guzheng sits in front of the jade house.
Trying to please Zhou Lang as much as possible, you see she deliberately dialed the wrong string.
The string urges the column to listen, and the sorrow and resentment of the Qin people are infinite.
It's like chasing the spring breeze to know Liuzhou, just like knowing flowers with birds.
The timbre of guzheng is so elegant, it is the most fashionable piece, exquisite and ingenious.
In the bright moon with purple sleeves and red strings,
Self-playing, self-feeling, dark, low capacity.
Chord coagulation refers to the cessation of pharyngeal sounds,
Don't be sentimental.
The flag of sunset flutters in A?vagho?a (Du Fu went to the fortress).
Big strings hum like rain, and small strings whisper like secrets. Bai Juyi's Pipa Journey
Humming, whispering-and then mixing together, like pouring large and small pearls into a plate of jade. Bai Juyi's Pipa Journey
8. Poems describing sounds in ancient poetry, Lu Xun's "gift" (below)
At the end of Qin Dynasty, women were tolerant of jade kites, and Chen Liang was enthusiastic about the night wind.
In a blink of an eye, the ice string sounded absolutely, but I saw the sound of running stars.
Li Duantang listened to zheng.
Zheng mingzhu,
Shining on the golden harp,
In order to attract Zhou Yu's keen eyes,
She sometimes touches the wrong note.
Xiao Gang played the Southern Dynasty Zheng.
Under the north window of Guqin,
The night sounds clear and sad.
High chords break easily,
A broken heart cannot bend the road.
Su's guzheng performance
There is a divine comedy upstairs,
I want to break my string and urge it again and again.
Jiang Fei listened to the fog and rain,
White waves are flying, and jade is floating.
Call me double phoenix trough,
Give it to orphans in the Three Gorges.
Playing Fang Chundiao with Jun,
Pick up firewood and frost branches.
Zheng Fu in Southern Dynasties
Qin Zheng speaks out of tune,
Yuzhu sings Qingqu,
The string is high and broken,
The sound continues with the beautiful fingers.
I heard voices around the beam,
Know Yan Ruyu better.
Li Bai Tang's Spring Journey
Beauty is the window of sunshine,
String players play the Zheng in sign language.
The spring breeze blew off the king's ears,
This song is Ascension to Heaven.
[Tang] Li He and Li Ping have many quotations.
Wu Si, Shu and Zhang Tong are in high autumn, and the empty mountains are not flowing.
Jiang Yue wept for Motome's sadness, while Ping Li was playing China.
Kunshan jade broken Fengming, hibiscus crying, Xianglan laughing.
The cold light melts in front of the twelve gates, and the twenty-three silk moves the purple emperor.
Nu Wa makes up the sky by refining stones, and the stones break the ground to stir up the autumn rain.
Dream into the holy mountain to teach the gods, and the old fish dance with the waves.
Wu Mian leans against the laurel tree, showing his feet and flying obliquely to wet cold rabbits.
The journey of pipa Bai Juyi Tang
In the evening, I bid farewell to a guest on Xunyang River. Maple leaves and mature rushes rustle in autumn. I, the host, have dismounted, my guest has boarded his boat, and we raise our cups, hoping to drink-but, alas, there is no music. Although we drank a lot of wine, we were not happy. When we were leaving each other, the river mysteriously widened in the direction of the full moon.
We heard a sudden sound. A guitar flashed across the water. The host forgot to go home and the guests left. We followed the direction of the melody and asked the player's name, and the voice was interrupted ... and then she reluctantly answered. We moved the boat closer to hers, invited her to join us, and summoned more wine and lanterns to start our party again. However, before she came to us, we called a thousand times and urged her for a thousand times, but she still hid half of her face behind her guitar from us. ... she turned the tuning pin and tested several strings, and even before she played, we could feel her feelings. Every string is a kind of meditation, and every note is a kind of deep thinking, as if she were telling us the pain of her life. She frowned, bent her fingers, and then started her music, letting her heart share everything with us bit by bit. She brushes the strings, twists them slowly, sweeps them and plucks them, first "Nishang" and then "Six Yao". Big strings hum like rain, and small strings whisper like secrets. Humming, whispering-and then mixing together, like pouring large and small pearls into a plate of jade. Between Guan Ying's words, the bottom of the flower is slippery, so you can't swallow the spring scenery and flow under the ice. The ice spring is cold and astringent, and the strings condense, and the condensation will never stop. The depth of sadness and the hiding of sadness are more told in silence than in voice. A silver vase suddenly burst, pouring out a stream of water, jumping out of the conflict and blow between armored horses and weapons. Before she put down the pick, her stroke was over, and all four strings made a sound, just like tearing silk. The east ship was silent, and the west ship was silent. We saw the white autumn moon entering the river. This paragraph is about music.
She tied it thoughtfully on the rope, stood up and smoothed her clothes, serious and polite. Tell us how she spent her girlhood in the capital and lived in her parents' house in Toad Hill. [Tomb of Frogs (Hama)] and mastered the guitar at the age of thirteen, and her name was recorded on the musician's class list. Her art even attracted the appreciation of experts, and her beauty attracted the envy of all major dancers. How did the aristocratic youths in Wuling compete generously? Countless red silks were given to a song. The silver comb inlaid with shells was broken by her rhythm, and the bloody skirt was stained with wine. Season after season, joy followed, and neither the autumn moon nor the spring breeze attracted her attention. Until her brother went to war, and then her aunt died, and the night passed, and the night came, and her beauty disappeared. Lengma was at the door, so at last she gave her wife to a businessman. Who, first of all, stole money, accidentally left her and went to Fuliang to buy tea a month ago. She has been taking care of an empty boat in the estuary, with no companions except the bright moon and cold water. Sometimes in the middle of the night, she dreams of her victory and is awakened from her dream by her hot tears.
Her first guitar note made me sigh. Now, after listening to her story, I feel even sadder. We were all unhappy until the end of the day, when we met. We understand. What is the relationship between acquaintances? ! A year ago, I left the capital and came here. Now I am a sick Jiujiang exile. Jiujiang is so far away that I haven't heard music, neither strings nor bamboo sounds for a whole year. My residence is near the town by the river, low and humid, and the house is surrounded by bitter reeds and yellow rushes. What can you hear here in the morning and evening? ? The cuckoo's bleeding cry, the ape's sobbing. I often pick up the wine and drink it alone in the spring morning with flowers and the autumn night with moonlight shining. Of course, there are folk songs and bagpipes in the village, which are very ugly. Tonight, when I heard you playing the guitar, I felt that my hearing was illuminated by wonderful music. Don't leave us. Come, sit down. Play it for us again. Translate the travel notes of pipa for you.
... she was moved by my words, stood there for a while, and then sat down to play her strings-they sounded even sadder.
Although the tune was different from what she had played before, all the listeners covered their faces.
But which of them cried the most? ? This Jiujiang official. My blue sleeves are wet.
9. Help write a poem about sound:
The weeping Committee drinks clear dew, and the sound is sparse.
Cicada is far away from cicada because cicada is on a tall tree, not relying on autumn wind.
-Yu Shinan's Cicada
Cicada sang in the western land and ordered me to make up my mind in my cell.
I can't stand the shadow on my temple to break the heart of a white-haired prisoner.
His flight passed through the thick fog, and his pure voice was drowned in the world of wind.
Who knows if he is still singing? Who will listen to me? .
-Luo's "A Political Prisoner Listening to Cicada"
The pure heart is hungry because of this, and you sing in vain all night.
Oh, this last broken breath, in the green indifferent trees! .
Yes, I am like a driftwood. I have made my garden full of weeds.
I thank you for your sincere advice and live a pure life like you.
-Li Shangyin's Cicada