Buried under the chrysanthemum, there is no Xiao Yue.
At the beginning of the imperial court, Lin Naiyuan.
The sword is bright in the spring, and the moonlight is white in the cold mountain.
Frost dew tree eaves, moonlight shines on the urn.
The moonlight shines on the water, and the wind blows and the grass hunts.
The teacher shows the way and the moon hangs lanterns.
The stars are in the night, but the rocks are lonely and the moon is not heavy.
The moon is always bright, so I'm too lazy to ask questions about the west and the east.
The moon is lonely at the top of the cold mountain, and there is nothing in the clear sky.
Sitting alone in the stone bed at night, the moon is full in the cold mountains.
The moon is clear and the silhouette is boundless.
The wind and clouds are surging, and the tides are frequent in the month.
Cold in the scattered moon, Yun Qi.
Before sitting alone on the rock, the full moon shines.
White clouds are still in the shadows, and the bright moon is floating that night.
Sitting alone, no one knows, the solitary moon shines in Joan Hinton.
There is no moon in spring, and the moon is in the sky.
There are mountains in the grass seat, and the moon and the moon are alone.