Three-year poem

About the sound of morning chickens, Maodian Moon and Banqiao Frost.

About dusk, buried by the coming night, I can't see the sun, which is all his glory.

Do you know that flowers should be green, fat, red and thin?

If I open a peach blossom for Di Qing in an ambitious year.

Nostalgia for hometown, looking east, the road is long, and the dragon bell with double sleeves cries.

A distant friend who misses his family lost one person when climbing the mountain.