Bai Juyi's poems

Several early orioles raced to the sunny tree, and their new swallows were carrying mud in their nests.

I advise you not to shoot birds in Sanchun. My son wants his mother to come back to the nest.

The wind turns over a thousand waves, and the geese point to the sky.

The clear sky is full of cranes and clouds, and poetry attracts Bixiao.

In the meantime, what is it, the cuckoo's bleeding cry and the ape's whimper?