Is it ok if I have published it on the blog?
Preface to the Oriole's Cry - The strong wind in the southern country is rustling
The strong wind in the southern country is rustling, and the ground is full of grass.
In the cold desert, thin eaves are woven, and oath birds pierce the clouds.
The road to Lanlan and Pengshan is far away, and Yaoxian is lonely and resentful.
Gu Linghua and Dai Qian have slight lips and light red makeup.
The memories of the past are forgotten, the pillow is filled with dreams, can you understand the feeling of separation?
It is easy to arouse sadness and find it hard to comfort yourself if you hold on to your worries and resolve thousands of knots.
Towards the Hengtang, the fragrant dust is gradually disappearing, and the light tea is brewing. Who can drink it?
Just now, I am full of melancholy, how can I pay for it?
The frown still reminds me of the past, and it is not easy to teach morning and evening.
Ren Lianlong, talking about and dreaming about old age, every bit of it is heart-wrenching. Hating that the water is far away, it is difficult to stay in this heart.
Looking back suddenly, time is passing by, where should the love of this life go? But still, Luo Mo hates being recognized.
The brocade characters between the lines should make me laugh as crazy as I wrote this heartbreaking sentence.
Still the balcony, still the west wind, the carved plum blossom stamens.
It is unbearable to watch, and the fragrance is falling.
The situation is unpredictable. Even if you dance in the sky, your body will be broken.
We are strangers at the end of the world, who can be deeply affectionate? All the pomp and worries are past our eyes. Marry a lover, and the past becomes a reminiscence.
The fluttering thoughts and thousands of beautiful sounds will not hurt your eyes.
Preface to the Orioles' Cry: Night Rain
The fog and rain are bleak outside the banana windows, and the corridor is covered with silky moss. When I lean on the railing and look out, I can see mournful clouds locking the river, green and fat, red and thin, and the wind blows. Years are passing by, and we are far away from each other. I cherish the present and hate the past, and my heart is empty and confused. How can the small characters engraved on red paper resist the tears of mourning poems? Her dark eyebrows are frowned, her jade cheeks are wet, and she shakes her fan tiredly. The branches are cold, the fragrance is lingering everywhere, and who can cover up the desolate beauty? In the sky, the wild geese are singing softly, the red candles are weeping, and the night leaks are breaking. It's worth hearing that the bronze sparrow is singing and the cuckoo is singing late. Dreams and tears have stopped, the shadows of flutes and bamboos are dim, and the sound from the top of the building is slow. People shed tears when they leave, the frosty sky rolls with fog, the golden poppies wither, the fish and geese are hard to send away, leaving only broken thoughts. The wax is burning, the green shirt holds the shadow, and the wine is carried in the clouds in the evening of Xiaoxiang. The night is deep, the candles are cut and the willows are sparse. Life is short, time fades easily, how many times does youth bloom? Looking at the distant mountains with a frown, my infatuation does not diminish, but I feel that the road is short and the road is far away. To whom do you promise? The fleeting time fills the bottle, the sadness is lonely, the smile is beautiful, but it only makes the heart confused. Thousands of tears flashed, eyes moved, it was difficult to dream in Penglai fairyland, sighing and pity the empty silk cocoon. Wushan looks through the thick clouds, the mist locks the flowers in sorrow, and the rain wets the face.
Preface to the Oriole's Cry: Thoughts on the Winter Solstice
The deep rain and cold wind penetrated the bones and wrinkled the jade face. On the winter solstice, the wind blows in the south of the Yangtze River, spreading wildly in the courtyard. I feel tired, and my black hair has often become unkempt recently. The sound of hatred for you is still thick and light, and gradually goes away. In depressing moments, I resent the west wind the most, causing my hair to become tangled and messy. I also grind incense and ink to draw away my sorrow, but the unfinished poem only increases my resentment. Recalling the beginning, there was a little tenderness, a smile, and a companion every day. Looking ahead, there are only 20 people on the road, and I read it sadly. I once pitied Fang Fei, keeping company with hundreds of flowers inside and outside the small house. Also listen to the strings, the erhu and the zither, the joys and sorrows of separation and union, the strange emotions of the past and present, the worries and habits. The windows are warm and cold, the flowers understand people's words, and I sigh a lot under the incandescent lamp. Isn't it sad to lose your youth and change your beauty secretly? Once the world gathers and disperses, it is just a matter of hesitation and levying wild geese. But again, he was talking crazy words, full of ignorance and regret. Pouring wine alone, I am half tipsy and seventy percent decadent. The night is long and the dream is short, I am traveling alone in the end of the world, staring at the two lights, the light is like tears, and the heart is broken when I cry. The bald pen is cold, and the Chu face is a little tired. Who fucked Chanjuan in the dream? The sad face is scattered, and the attachment is broken!
Partridge Sky
(Part 1)
The tears stained the sparse shadows next to the bitter locust tree, and the bright moon was lingering;
Flying flowers leave their own fragrance, and they will never come back once they are gone;
When the fate is over, I turn to the dust to find you in my dream across the Yangtze River and Huaihe River;
It turns out that the years cannot be afforded, a pair of eyes Cut a tree to mourn.
(Part 2)
Who allowed me to shed thousands of tears when I was drunk and admiring the colorful clothes?
Lihuanuo in the rain lane is left empty, looking sadly at the long shadow of the setting sun;
In sorrow, wine is put into the poem bag, and the wind is speechless and weeping in Xiaoxiang;
Who is in the clouds? I send you the words of lovesickness, but my dream is already cold when the wild goose returns.
Qi Jue
Heart Sacrifice
Shouying deeply twists the old poem,
It is half sad and half infatuated,
Since there are past events in the passing years,
Why burn paper to commemorate lovesickness.
Die Lianhua
Heart Sacrifice
My beloved has a long back in the wind, while my concubine has wet eyes and looks back deeply.
Already we are missing each other in Dripping Rain Alley, but our hearts are still knotted with twin silk nets.
Infinite madness has become a thing of the past, who will sing the Li song softly in drunkenness?
Stay, travel and think, from now on I will remember you.
Dolly Autumn Shang
The road is difficult to travel, and it is so tossing and turning. Looking back again, the beautiful face has suddenly aged, and the flowing light is like water and it is difficult to chase. Laughing at the world of mortals, the unpredictable gatherings and dispersions; in the end, I don’t know where to send my love. Old sentences are murmuring, the jade flute is playing towards the evening, and the rhyme of the Chu curtain is sinking in the smoke waves far away. It arouses melancholy, makes the mind obsessed with shadows, and has no intention of playing with the strings. Pityful place, new sorrows and old hatreds, lovesickness and melancholy.
Sigh, floating and drifting for a few times, piled up like ashes. What to talk about, day and night; endless singing, hating the water to the east. I put down my pen and stirred the incense, chanting my resentment, it is hard to overcome the endless suffering due to fate. Do you know that even if you spend time with Pingting, you will be wasting your time? Still like this, from now on, I will shed tears in the autumn.