Second, the spring water is born, the spring forest is open, and the spring breeze is ten miles, which is not as good as you.
Third, the chill is pressing, the pavilion is late, and the shower begins to rest. Farewell outside Kyoto, but not in the mood to drink, reluctant to leave, the people on board have been urging to start. Holding hands and looking at each other, tears swirled in my eyes until there were no words at last, and a thousand words stuck in my throat and I couldn't say it. Thinking of returning to the south this time, this journey is another road. Thousands of miles away, it is misty, and the night sky is a vast night fog.
Fourth, although Laoshan is not close to the body, it has spent the spring in Chang 'an. I wonder who this beautiful night belongs to.
Five, lamenting the tears of beauty, the death of heroes, the world is much more bitter. Mountains and rivers are always silent, how can we be happy?
Six, you said, Qian Shan dusk snow, running water play mandarin duck; Later, Wu dreamed and played lightly; You said, flowers on the embankment, * * * enjoy spring scenery; Later, looking around the world, pear blossoms bring rain and cool; You said, reading under the lamp adds fragrance to tea; Later, the moon shadow shook, and it was difficult to distinguish between true and false;
You said that the geese crossed Hengyang, and the youth was not finished; Later, the yellow flowers were sparse, and the moon set in the west wing; You said, show smoke and fly sand, the enemy is under the pool; Later, the disabled rider cracked his armor and spread all over the world.
Seven, riding a horse and flying sand, the situation is omnipotent. Even if this mountain collapses, it will protect you step by step.
Eight, three miles breeze three miles, step by step breeze without a gentleman.
Who can say for sure tomorrow in nine or ten years? .
Ten, be my three thousand pen and ink, draw your beauty.
Eleven, the palace lantern is bright at night, and the flowers are colorful, and * * * drinks for a lifetime.
Twelve, I and the carefree landscape family, gossiping about Sang Ma. After listening to a pipa, there is nothing to worry about.
Thirteen, Ruyan Liu river, geese fly the waning moon.
Fourteen, three thousand prosperous, a flick of a finger, a hundred years later, but a handful of yellow sand. Only you are my world.
Fifteen, the dreamland is vast, once met, it will never be forgotten. What's wrong with leaving a smile when you don't know your host?