"Eight Poems of Autumn"
Era: Tang Author: Du Fu
The jade dew withered the maple forest, and the Wushan Gorge was desolate.
The waves in the river and the sky are rising, blocking the wind and clouds and grounding the clouds.
The chrysanthemums in bloom will shed tears in the future, and the lonely boat will be linked to the heart of the hometown.
Han Yi is urging the sword and ruler everywhere, and Baidi City is high and anxious at dusk.
The sun sets in the isolated city of Kui Mansion, and every time I turn to the south, I look towards the capital.
Hearing Yuan Shi shed three tears, he ordered Xu to investigate in August.
The incense burner in the painting is hidden on the pillow, and the pink battlements of the mountain tower are hidden in sadness.
Please look at the wisteria moon on the stone and the reed flowers in front of the island.
Guo Jing Zhaohui in Qianjiashan Mountain, one day the river tower sat in the green light.
The fishermen in Xinsu are still ordinary, and the swallows are flying in the clear autumn.
Kuang Heng's reputation for resisting Shu was not good, and Liu Xiang's Chuan Sutra went against his will.
The classmates are young and not cheap, but Wuling's clothes and horses are light and fat.
I heard that Chang'an is like playing chess, and the world is full of sorrow for a hundred years.
The princes and houses all have new owners, and their civil and military uniforms are different from those of the past.
The golden drums of Guan Mountain in Zhibei are vibrating, and the horses and chariots of the expedition to the west are late.
The fish and dragon are lonely, the autumn river is cold, and the homeland is full of thoughts.
The Penglai Palace faces the Nanshan Mountain, and the golden stems of dew reach the Han Dynasty.
Looking to the west, the Queen Mother descends from Yaochi, and from the east, the purple energy fills the pass.
The clouds move and the pheasant tail opens the palace fan, and the sun circles the dragon scales to recognize the holy face.
When I was lying in Cangjiang, I was surprised at the late New Year's Eve. I took care of the court several times.
At the head of Qujiang River at the mouth of Qutang Gorge, thousands of miles of wind and smoke meet the plain autumn.
The calyces sandwich the city to control the air, and the hibiscus garden enters the border.
The yellow crane is surrounded by red curtains and embroidered pillars, and the white gulls are lifted up by the brocade cable teeth.
Looking back at the pitiful land of singing and dancing, Qinzhong has been an imperial state since ancient times.
The Kunming pool is full of merits from the Han Dynasty, and Emperor Wu’s flag is in his eyes.
On a moonlit night, the silk of the Weaver Girl's loom moves, and the stone whale's scales stir in the autumn wind.
The wild rice floats on the waves and sinks into black clouds, and the lotus room falls pink in the cold dew.
There is only a bird's way in the sky at Guansai, and there are fishermen everywhere in the rivers and lakes.
Kunwu Yusu meanders from the sky, and the purple pavilion peak enters Meibei.
The fragrant rice pecks at the remaining parrot grains, and the green parasol perches on the old phoenix branches.
A beautiful woman picks up the green spring and asks each other, and an immortal couple moves in the same boat late at night.
The color pen used to travel to dry up the atmosphere, and the white head looked down in pain.
The eight poems of "Autumn Xing" were composed when Du Fu lived in Kuizhou at the age of fifty-five in the first year of the Dali calendar (766). It is a set of eight consecutive seven-character poems with strict structure and profound lyricism, which reflects the poet's thoughts, feelings and artistic achievements in his later years.