Li Qingzhao
Fog filled the clouds, and the days were spent in sorrow. Kapoor was among the birds in the incense burner.
The festival is also a double ninth festival, and the jade pillow gauze kitchen is half cold at night.
Dongli drinks until dusk, and faint chrysanthemum fragrance overflows his sleeves.
Don't say clear autumn is not a person, the west wind rolls the flag and beads curtain, and the person in the curtain is thinner than that Huang Ju.
Jing Tian Sha
Melancholy Qiu Si
Old vines are faint crows, small bridges are flowing, and old roads are thin horses.
When the sun sets, heartbroken people are at the end of the world.