It is sad, especially the general taste in my heart.
I don't regret that my belt is getting wider and wider, which makes people haggard for Iraq.
Painting candle cage yarn red shadow chaos, purple outside the door. Break the clouds and lose the moon. The snow waves wrinkled and cleared. Holding a bowl of slender bamboo shoots is fine, and the milk mist is full of ice porcelain. Keep my hands clean. Go home and wake up drunk.
Two songs in autumn
Year: Tang author:
Chrysanthemum scattered golden wind, lotus sparse jade dew round. Count geese in autumn and leave cicadas in summer.
Clouds congeal and worry about half a ridge, and summer breaks the sky. Looking at Chengdu, you can see directly in front of Emei.
It's cool, and the autumn wind moves Guilin. Dewdrops condense thousands of Pian Yu, chrysanthemums sprinkle a clump of gold.
The sun rises and sets, and clouds and the sky are dotted with shade. You can't count on Peng Ying, and Chunshi is entertaining.
The autumn wind broke the hut.
Year: Tang Author: Du Fu
In August and autumn, the wind roared and rolled up my three hairs.
Hair flew over the river and sprinkled on the periphery of the river. The highest one hangs a long forest tip, and the lower one floats to Shentang 'ao.
The children in Nancun bully me, and I can't stand being a thief in the opposite direction and openly carrying Mao into the bamboo forest.
My lips are burnt, my mouth is dry, and I can't breathe. When I came back, I sighed at my staff.
In an instant, the wind will set the color of the clouds and ink, and the autumn will be bleak and dark.
This cloth has been as cold as iron for many years, and Joule has been lying down and cracking.
There is no dry place in the bedside table, and the feet are numb with rain.
What's the point of getting wet all night?
There are tens of millions of luxury houses in Ande, which greatly protect the poor people in the world from the spring breeze and the wind and rain!
Oh! When I suddenly see this house in front of me, I will freeze to death alone!
The 111th time in prison.
Year: Song Author: Wen Tianxiang
Let's see what we can do, and you are lonely and poor.
Want to smell the morning bell, the green light goes out.