Bashan Chu River is desolate, and he abandoned himself in the twenty-third year.
Nostalgia, singing and smelling flute fu, is like a rotten ke in my hometown.
On the side of the sinking boat, Qian Fan passes, and in front of the sick tree, Wan Muchun.
today, I listen to a song by Jun, so I can take a glass of wine for a while.
Red Cliff (Du Mu Tang)
The broken halberd and sinking sand iron have not been sold, so I will wash it and recognize the former dynasty.
If the east wind doesn't cooperate with Zhou Lang, the copper finches lock Er Qiao in spring.
After crossing Lingdingyang (Southern Song Dynasty in Wen Tianxiang)
After a hard encounter, there are few stars around.
the mountains and rivers are broken and the wind is floating, and the life experience is ups and downs.
fear is said on the beach, and there is a sigh in the ocean.
who hasn't died since ancient times? Take the heart of Dan and shine on the history.
Water Tune Song (Su Shi Song)
On the Mid-Autumn Festival in Bingchen, I was drunk and drunk. I wrote this article, and I was pregnant with my son.
When will there be a bright moon? I fetch the wine glass from afar. I don't know the palace in the sky. What year is it tonight? I want to go home by the wind, but I'm afraid of the beautiful buildings. I can't stand the cold at the top. How can I dance to find out my shadow?
turn to Zhuge, low-lying households, and take photos without sleep. The moon should not have any resentment against people, why is it that the people are only round when they leave? Men have sorrow and joy and they part and meet again. The moon dims or shines and it waxes or wanes. Nothing is perfect, not even in the old days. I hope people will live for a long time, and they will be beautiful for thousands of miles.
Mountain Goat Tongguan Nostalgia (Zhang Yanghao Yuan)
The peaks are like a cluster, the waves are like anger, and the mountains and rivers are like Tongguan Road. Looking at the western capital, I hesitated. Sad Qin and Han dynasties, the palace que ten thousand rooms have been made of soil. Xing, the people suffer; Death makes the people suffer.
Drinking (Tao Yuanming's Eastern Jin Dynasty)
build house is in the human territory, but there are no horses and chariots.
when you ask him what he can do, you are far from self-centered.
under the east fence of picking chrysanthemums, you can see Nanshan leisurely.
the weather is getting better every day, and the birds are returning.
there is a real meaning in this, and I have forgotten to say it if I want to distinguish it.
it is hard to go (Li Bai Tang)
pure wine costs, for the golden cup, ten thousand coppers a flagon, Yupan Zhen is ashamed of ten thousand dollars.
I fling aside my food-sticks and cup, I cannot eat nor drink, I pull out my dagger, I peer four ways in vain.
I would cross the Yellow River, but ice chokes the ferry, the Taihang Mountain will be covered with snow.
I would sit and poise a fishing-pole, lazy by a brook, but I suddenly dream of riding a boat, sailing for the sun.
it is hard to go, it is hard to go, many roads, where is Ann now?
I will mount a long wind some day and break the heavy waves, and set my cloudy sail straight and bridge the deep, deep sea.
The thatched cottage was broken by the autumn wind (Du Fu Tang)
In August, the high wind howled, and it swept the triple grass on my house. Mao Fei crossed the river and sprinkled it on the outskirts of the river. The highest one hung a long forest tip, and the lower one floated to Shentang 'ao.
The children in Nancun bully me, and I am old and weak, so I can stand being a thief. Holding Mao into the bamboo openly, his lips are too dry to breathe, and he sighs when he returns.
the wind in Russia sets the color of clouds and ink, and it turns dark in autumn. The cloth has been as cold as iron for many years, and jiao er is lying down and cracking. There is no dry place in the bedside room, and the rain feet are like hemp. Since the chaos and lack of sleep, how can you get wet all night!
There are tens of millions of mansions in Ande, which greatly protects the world's poor people from all smiles, and the wind and rain do not move like a mountain. Whoo! When I suddenly see this house in front of my eyes, I will freeze to death alone!
a Song of White Snow in Farewell to Field-Clerk Wu Going Home (Cen Can Tang)
the north wind rolls the white grasses and breaks them, and the Eighth-month snow across the Tartar sky.
is like a spring gale, come up in the night, blowing open the petals of ten thousand pear trees.
it enters the pearl blinds, it wets the silk curtains, a fur coat feels cold, a cotton mat flimsy.
bows become rigid, can hardly be drawn, it's hard to protect your iron clothes.
the sand-sea deepens with fathomless ice, the gloom is bleak and Wan Li is condensed.
but we drink to our guest bound home from camp, and play him barbarian lutes, guitars, harps.
till at dusk, when the drifts are crushing our tents, and our frozen red flags cannot flutter in the wind.
we watch him through Wheel-Tower Gate going eastward, into the snow-mounds of Heaven-Peak Road.
and then he disappears at the turn of the pass, leaving behind him only hoof-prints.
Ji Hai's Miscellaneous Poems (Gong Zizhen's Modern Times)
Far away from sorrow, the day is slanting, and the whip refers to the horizon.
falling red is not a heartless thing, but turning into spring mud will protect the flowers.
to my younger brother (Liu Zhen, Han Wei)
pine trees on the pavilion hill, rustling in the valley and having a stroke.
when the wind blows, the pine branches blow!
the frost is miserable, and it is always correct at the end of the year.
don't you suffer from freezing cold, pine and cypress have sex!
farewell to vice-prefect du setting out for his official post in shu (Wang Botang)
by this wall that surrounds the three Qin districts, through a mist that makes five rivers one.
we bid each other a sad farewell, we two officials going opposite ways.
and yet, while China holds our friendship, and heaven remains our neighbourhood.
why should you linger at the fork of the road, children * * * with towels!
on a Gate-Tower at Youzhou (Chen Ziang Tang)
where, before me, are the ages that have gone?,
and where, behind me, are the coming generations?.
I think of heaven and earth, without limit, without end,
and I am all alone and my tears fall down.