Standing in the long river of the century, looking at the shepherd boy's finger points to an eternal poetic prosperity-the Tang Dynasty, which is full of songs and dances. The poetry books of the Tang Dynasty are full of energy and eternal; There are 300 Tang poems, and the pen is full of flowers. Whether it's the tragic feelings of a strong man in the battlefield who never returns to his husband, or the feelings of a lady in a boudoir who misses her daughter to spend the autumn moon, the beauty of Tang poetry is absolutely beautiful and lasting, whether it hurts people's hearts, whether it has gone through the sea, whether it is inspiring or bleak.
Reading three hundred Tang poems and then reading one is like pulling out a rusty Gu Jian. In the darkness, there is a shining soul who respects the immortal heroes: life and death are generous, mountains and rivers are swallowed up, Jin Ge's dream is like a dream, and the sky roars back and forth ... They are all destroyed in the rolling waves. What a heroic Tang poem! Reading a Tang poem is like opening an ancient rouge box, and in the dense fragrance, a sigh of unfortunate beauty rises. I don't know about Jun Jun, but it's miserable and cold. Beauty curtain, tears look at flowers, how many lonely spring skirts are dyed red with pink tears! What a beautiful Tang poem! Shallow talk, wipe tears and cover up the volume.
The bell of Hanshan Temple lingers, spreading its wings through time and space, flying over the world of mortals, like a wild goose singing like a flute, and the sound spectrum is ileum. Things have changed, and the years are impermanent. How many emperors have changed! Tang Zong Song Zu, smashing halberds and sinking sand; Three thousand makeup, sighing. Wealth and fame are fleeting, and the king rules the Ganges. Only the bells of Hanshan Temple outside Gusu City are still repeating the eternal twilight. Jiang Feng's fishing in the Tang Dynasty lingered forever in the poems of the next generation, beating the sleepless nights on earth.
Moonlight in the Tang Dynasty. I don't know who first saw the moon on a moonlit night by the river. Since then, thousands of miles have been trickling to illuminate the loneliness of people who never sleep every night. The moon is the hometown of wanderers, and so bright a gleam on the foot of my bed is always the frost of homesickness; The moon is the concern of Sifu. In the sound of rags, the brightness is decreasing every night. The moon is a lonely man's drinking friend, wandering around with my shadow, making the three of us toasters. The wine in the Tang Dynasty was very strong. The poet has been attracted to raise a glass to drown his sorrows. He has changed his money for wine, but he wants to get drunk. Three glasses of wine can lead to Confucianism, and it is natural for Taoism to drink it all in one game. How many times can a person be intoxicated in his life? The breeze pours wine into the river and looks at the sword when drunk. When you are drunk, you forget the honor and disgrace of the world, and the world is cold. At present, the wine is strong, and I am full of pride if I come to a pot of spirits.