Poetry 1: Bamboo Horse Son Liu Yong
Climbing the lonely fortress is desolate, the dangerous pavilion is wide and wide, and it is quiet in Yanzhu.
The female neon is hanging with rain, the male wind points to the sill, and the heat is slightly suppressed.
Gradually, I feel the autumn leaves are startling, the cicadas are noisy late, and the time sequence is familiar.
Looking at the scenery and thinking about the past joy, it refers to the depths of Shenjing, neither fog nor smoke.
To pursue this feeling, it is easy to accumulate new sorrows and it is difficult to reunite with old friends.
Standing still at the height of the sun.
Winning is ecstasy and speechless.
The sky is bright and clear, the crows are dim, and the city is desolate at dusk.
The south tower draws a corner and sends the setting sun away.
Poetry 2: Ode to Bamboo
One pole alone shows heroic appearance, let alone when thousands of poles are reunited.
Jin Jie is the best in humility, Ling Shuang proudly displays his banner in the snow.
It is a joy to transform into a furniture maker, and know everything from a foothold in the world.
Who dares to compare with Evergreen? Lansong and I smile together.
Poetry 3: Bamboo
I am in the middle of the three friends in the cold year, and I open my mind to the sky with an open mind.
The sharp leaves dance in bunches in the wind, and the jade bamboo shoots hang raindrops shoulder to shoulder.
I laugh at the moon palace maiden at night, and criticize the sun in the morning.
Enter Xuan and dip the body in ink a hundred times, and use the gold knife to make the utensil in poverty.