The sad and beautiful poems of the fallen leaves are as follows:
1. Waiting is sad and broken, and people speak on the west bank. When the moon sets, the sand is as smooth as the river, and there are no geese at all. The dark teaches sorrow and damages Lan Cheng, and pitifully cares about love every night. There is only one plane leaf, and I don't know how many autumn sounds! -song dynasty Zhang Yan's "qingpingle, waiting for sorrow and breaking"
crickets wail and want to break their souls, but tears still hang over the curtain. The autumn wind is bleak in autumn, and the strings are broken and resting on dangerous buildings. Man and autumn insects sing. Leng Yue falls on the sandbar and closes the willow by the river. Chengjiang is like a colorful silk, and the broken bridge smells like flowing water. Thousands of miles of reed flowers are broken, and the plum blossoms are thin. The ground is full of worries about the fall of Britain, and the edge of the embankment is precious.
I couldn't see the whereabouts of Guiyan, but suddenly I remembered two plum branches in Beijing. Silently worried about the letter, tears are exhausted. Pity every night contains feelings of separation. Hate to Qiu Ren, for love distant flute neighboring flute, surprised Qixia. Only that phoenix tree is fluttering down, wrinkling a pillow of autumn wind, and I don't know how many sad autumn sounds are entrusted!
2. with no other neighbour but the quiet night, here I live in the same old cottage. And yellow leaves of yellow leaves fall in the rain, like the fate of the white-haired old man under the light. Ashamed of so long and lonely, you often come to condole me with you. We are friends of poetry to have the fate, let alone you and my two cousins. -Sikong Shu's when lu lun my cousin comes for the night in the Tang Dynasty
There is no neighborhood around the quiet night, only the rustling of the wind blowing through the trees. Living in the wilderness because the family is poor. Or walk alone in the wilderness, or sit in the wind, or stay indoors. The yellow leaves on the trees are falling in the rain, and even a bird has not flown. The air is filled with the fragrance of bitter earth, and the night wind is doing the last tired walk here. Like the fate of a white-haired old man under a lamp.
I'm ashamed that I've been lonely for so long, and I've failed you to come and offer my condolences frequently. We are friends of poetry, and we are born with fate, not to mention that you and I are cousins.
3. The fallen leaves are raining in succession, and Zhu Si caresses herself and sings songs. Don't hate people who don't have friends, but cultivate their nature and throw them into the sea. There is a sound outside the car door for the elderly, and there are many Taoist scrolls in front of the pillow. Cloth will eventually become a cloud traveler, and the green water and green mountains will pass. -Yu Xuanji in the Tang Dynasty "Sorrow"
With the bleak autumn rain in the evening, the fallen leaves resigned one after another, and I was the only one, playing the piano alone. I seem to hear the long-lost Suzaku chirping, sometimes plaintive, sometimes tactfully, sometimes high and sometimes low. In the end, the sound of the piano changed again, with a hint of loss, regret and regret, but with a hint of stubbornness, telling the bitterness that ordinary people can't understand.