Live in Dinghuiyuan on a moonlit night.
You didn't come for nothing. Occasionally, the east wind turns into a sunny night.
Staggered jade chips fly, and cigarettes linger under the moon.
Jiang Yun has a state of self-indulgence, while Zhu Lu is silent.
I am already weak, and there is one plum.
Poetry in the Qing dynasty is also self-contained, and enough people have borrowed wine.
I don't care about my youth, but I'm afraid I will thank you every year.
Knowing that drunken ears love the breeze, they must pick frost forests and build huts.
Floating big retort boiled jade, sliding small groove like sugar cane.
The real taste in drinking is older and stronger, and the madness in drunkenness is more terrible.
But when Xie Ke told his wife, he fell off the laurel and sneered.
On a moonlit night, guests drink under apricot flowers.
Apricot flowers fly over the curtain to disperse the spring, and the bright moon enters the house to find a lover.
Step by step, step by step, step by step, like running water, like green apples.
The flowers are fragrant with wine, and they are struggling to pull long strips of fragrant snow.
The thin wine in the mountain city tastes terrible, so I advise you to drink a glass of moon.
The flute is broken in the moonlight, and the glass is empty when the moon sets.
In the Ming Dynasty, the spring breeze was evil, but the green leaves remained red.
"Yunzhou Xintang February Night" Yu Zijun, He Xian
The moon is in Huachi, and the water in the pool reflects the class.
A few people hid in the hall, and their hearts cooled with the water.
When the firefly disappears, there is light when the grass is exposed.
Seen from the river, the promenade rings.
Many people believe in countless meetings, and thousands of fingers adjust spring.
Mr. Wang doesn't drink when he is sick, and the boy burns incense.
Just a five-character poem is as clear as Lang Wei's.
Poetry becomes a moon, and the two sides are opposite.
"In the beautiful hall, go home with Shugu in the moonlight"
Juanjuan slightly invaded Xuan, and she swam in the Milky Way and half hidden mountains.
Fish keys are never picked in the clear night, and the phoenix flute is still green.
The mournful wind shrinks over the mysterious column, and the fragrant fog confuses the bun.
* * * I'm glad you can drum music. Ten thousand people are vying to see the Fire City.
February Night in Xintang, Yunzhou (last rhyme, later non-)
I went to the new auditorium last year, after the spring breeze and Si Nuo disappeared.
The pool is half full, and thousands of feet willows are on the pool.
Beauty is like peaches and plums, and Hu Die enters the shirt sleeve.
Today, the mountains and rivers, the wilderness has been divided
Time is incredible, just like a boat.
Prosperity is really a dream, and loneliness is both brilliant and decadent.
Only at this time, according to a glass of wine.
Be merciful to the people on board, wait and see, and know nothing.
The bright moon enters the Huachi, reflects the pond, and goes to class.
A few people hid in the hall, and their hearts cooled with the water.
When the firefly disappears, there is light when the grass is exposed.
Judging from the scenery of the river, the footsteps sound long.
There are countless meetings of fame and trust, and a thousand fingers adjust the wire spring.
Mr. Wang doesn't drink when he is sick, and the boy burns incense.
A five-character poem written alone, as clear as Lang Wei.
Poetry becomes a moon, and the two sides are opposite.