Appreciation of the 15th Translation of Qiu Huai

There are fifteen songs written by Meng Jiao in the Tang Dynasty in autumn. Lonely bones can't sleep at night, and insects sing and sing to each other. Cry without tears, autumn dew dripping wet. The strength is like cutting for a while, and it is like weaving. There is no new heart in the moved mood, but there are memories in the sadness. Endure to chase the south sail, Jiangshan convention in the past.

The autumn moon is ice, and the old guest records the list. Coody Leng's dream was shattered, and the cold wind combed his bones. The disgusting words were printed on the table, and my intestines turned to worry. Doubt is unfounded, and empty listening is groundless. The tung tree is dry and towering, and the sound is like a funeral bomb.

A foot and a month pass the house, and the chestnut flies like a sword. Old bones also surprised, sick and weak. Insects are greedy for the night, and birds are in danger of burning their nests. Widowed moths care about silk and cry and smoke. You can't catch up with the fleeting time, but you can't return to dusk.

In autumn, the old are poorer, and there is no door to the broken house. A moon fell on the bed, and the wind was everywhere. Dreams are no longer far away, and weak hearts are easy to return. It will be green when you go to Pa, and it will linger in the afterglow. There are few things to do in the wild, and it is against the plan. Grass-roots worm, business is small with me.

The bamboo wind suddenly talks, and the boudoir steals. Ghosts and gods don't listen, so it's hard to separate themselves. Commercial leaves fall in drought and rain, and autumn clothes lie in a single cloud. Sick bones can be chewed, and sour groans can also be written. Thin savings have dried up so much that strong savings have fallen with the West. A chance, but a word is a slap in the face.

Old bones is afraid of the moon, which has a sword. You can't do it. The cold soul sits by itself. Holding the empty mirror of the mother nest, the fairy soars on the ice floe. I'm afraid I'll turn over when I'm afraid. The single bed is bright, thin and serious. If the river is not washed, the turbid water will be clear. Poetry was strong in the past and empty in the past, so why should poetry decline today?

Old age is full of different troubles, and morning and night are not one heart. Businessmen cry for bad luck, and noise is hard to find. Autumn grass is as fine as hair, and Zhen Fang is resplendent and magnificent. When it is fresh at night, sunny days are easy to be cloudy. Those who are weak in learning are ashamed, and they know what they want at dusk. When the dew is greedy, the latent wisdom is deep. It is an old proverb to guard against the deep.

At the end of the year, the economy is dry and the autumn wind is whistling. Weave without clothes, monks sing. The sound of business is late at night, and the waste is moving forward. Green hair is like a garden in autumn, but once it is cut, it will never come back. Teenagers, hungry flowers, will never see them again. The gentleman is determined, and the villain does not dispute. If you fight too many battles, you won't live long, and Heaven will resign its profits.

Too much cold dew and too much dry wind. Autumn is deep and the moon is bitter. The old bug has a hoarse voice. There are many ochre beads and fragrant vines. When the vegetation is also interesting, it is as cold as spring. I was born in sorrow, and sorrow is different from heart.

Old people are different in the morning and evening, and life and death are daily. Sit quietly and lie with the sky. See the door short, listen to the wind. It is also like carving, so as to avoid fiber and listen. The waves thank the beginning, but they return to the end. Lonely friends, close friends. Years old, the autumn festival is poor. Four seasons pressure each other, natural worry. The south is vast and the north is poor. I miss that distant river, and I think of it in autumn. It is difficult to hoe food and ugly clothes. If the dust does not form itself, who will pass on the ancient songs? You Zhu shouted ghosts and gods, and Chu Tiesheng was a dragon. Ambition leads to many different feelings, and depression leads to evil intentions. Always think about books and rags until you die. Learning music is not sound, how stubborn and deaf it is. Obviously, I want to write it as Gao Chong.

The bitterness is getting heavier and heavier, and the old strength is getting weaker and weaker. I am often afraid of getting out of bed temporarily and can't go back to the door. Hungry people pay more attention to food, while cold people pay more attention to clothes. There is nothing to be generalized and followed. If you lose the second place in Chinese, you will be scarred outside. Osmanthus fragrans bugs are dirty, and Osmanthus fragrans damages virginity. A bad word loses its fragrance, but a bad word can last forever. Regret before you die, and chase after you regret. Alas, I am frivolous and arrogant all day long.

Flow is flashing, withering and crushing are all signs. The thorn branches cry bitterly, and the tung leaves are frosty. The old bug made an iron sound, and the frightened beast roared alone. The sound of commercial gas washing is sparse, and the night is overcast. Ears can't stop, and even immortals can't escape. Who will sit in seclusion with Cao? Wireless painting is a great effort. Qing poetry is famous, and Jin Ju is also named Tao. Cleaning up what was abandoned in the past, consulting is worse than Mao now. Faint, I can't do it.

Frost into diseased bones, old people are born with ice. Faded hair stings in the dark, and the cold pain is invincible. Emu reaches out to the bright side, and the strong side is relying on it. Sitting thin will collapse, and hunger will collapse at night. Persuade doctors to control fools, and talk like hate. Shrug your ears and choke to know the function. The eyes of Japanese and China people are sore, and the rope flies are hidden. How cool is it? This taste is a little concentrated. He who has no desire to hide drugs is ashamed for the rest of his life. Fortunately, it is not far from freezing, and it is against the heart in the middle of winter. Come and go at different times, both hot and cold are bitter. Thank you for sending Weng, and plead for conquest.

When the Yellow River falls into the sky, the flood comes. People's hearts are not as good as water, and they will never return. There has always been a coincidence that he refused to come to Penglai. I've never been tired. I've only heard of provincial television. It is easy to be anxious to lose the past by enduring it without losing it. Lost Gu Jian also fold, lost guqin also sad. The master shed tears in ancient times, and then he burst into tears. Poetry has lost its ancient heart and remains cold. Ancient bones have no turbid meat, and ancient clothes are like moss. I advise you to endure the ancients and endure the dust of the ancients.

You can't see blood when you talk. Why kill people? Sounds like a poor dog. Why is it barking at the sinuses? Ghosts wept bitterly and invaded the gold poverty. Words are useless and smell haggard. The old saying is immortal, and there are so many books so far. Today's people recite ancient books, and good and evil should be divided. Qin fire is not ruo tongue, Qin fire is virtual. So I turned over a new leaf, and I'm still dumbfounded.

In autumn, Meng Jiao lived in Luoyang for the aged, and worked as a subordinate official in Yin Mu, southern Henan Province, suffering from poverty and illness. Fifteen Poems in Autumn is a set of poems written by Luoyang, lamenting the old wounds, and the second one is the best. In this poem, the poet is full of bitterness and bitterness in life, expressing the desolation and desolation in his later years, and reflecting the destruction of talents by feudal system and the cruelty of the world.

The second poem, written from the autumn moon, is both a rise and a metaphor. The ancients lived in a foreign land, and a bright moon was often a traveling companion who poured out homesickness and a good friend who had no intention of guessing. At this moment, the poet felt that even the autumn moon was cold and cold; The poet himself, the "old guest" who accompanied the moon, also exhausted his life's ambition and was in a bleak situation. The word "old guest" contains the frustration of his life career, while the word "single" reveals the infinite feelings of loneliness. The word "Coody Leng" highlights the image of an excellent policeman, with a pun and profound meaning.