Broken rainbow falls to Pingshan, and the slanting geese are safe.

Nail bells and chop wood to mix thousands of beads.

Worry about dragons crying about the jade sea, and talk about carving at night.

Only in summer can you serve the king again.

-Yang Weizhen's Zheng Mingqu

Qin Zheng spit out the melody, and Yu Zhu sang the melody.

The string is broken by high, and the sound continues with the wonderful finger.

You'd better know Yan Ruyu when you hear the sound.

-Liang/Shen Yue: Singing Zheng

Her white hands glistened under the snow window and on the golden harp,

In order to attract Qiu Yu's keen eyes, she touched a wrong note from time to time.

-Tang/Li Duan: "Listening to Zheng"

Sitting in the jade building with a gloomy face, I was sad for a while in thirteen strings.

With your command, you stopped acting and committed suicide in Sima Head, Jiangzhou.

-Bai Juyi's "Listening to the Prostitute Zheng"

Meng didn't track down, and you chumiao was bounced off.

Send a new song in the account, with a clear voice.

Cymbals are matched with six methods, and columns are matched with three talents.

Don't listen to the western qin dynasty, Zheng Zheng has left.

—— Tang/Li Qiao: Zheng

Yin Zheng worked diligently all night,

If I am afraid of an empty room, I can't bear to go home.

-Yu Ya's Autumn Nocturne

A trip in spring

-Li Bai

Beauty is the window of sunshine,

String players play guzheng in sign language.

The spring breeze blew off the king's ears,

This song is Ascension to Heaven.

-

The guest house in Beijing smells Zheng.

Twelve strings and three strings have five tones,

Every sound is like cutting off people's hearts.

At this time, Xiang embroidery heard the flute next door.

Not long away from home.

* Poems with calligraphy *

-

Looking into the distance, it is flourishing and blooming in spring.

Qingyang Caolu, Feihong embroidered skirt.

Think of the swaying rain, and my heart will be clear.

If you want to name the piano, give it to your bosom friend.

Finger fragrance is dancing on the strings, and the voice is soft.

Looking for a bosom friend in the mountains and flowing water, intoxicated with Chanjuan in music.

I want to know why my Jinse has fifty strings.

Every flower has a youthful interval.

Zhuang Xingxiao dreams of being fascinated by butterflies.

The king's longing for spring is crying in the cuckoo.

-"Jinse" Li Shangyin