Huangzhou ding hui yuan bu operator residential
The curved hook moon hangs on the sparse buttonwood; In the dead of night, the water from the water clock has been dripping.
Who saw the solo dance, like a wild goose in the sky.
At night, it suddenly becomes afraid, suddenly flies and comes back frequently, but no one always understands its infinite inner feelings.
Pick up all the cold branches and refuse to live, and the maple leaves in Wujiang River fall.
Xijiang month
In Huangzhou, I swim in the water at night in spring. Drinking in a restaurant, getting drunk. Take the moon to the bridge, unload the saddle, bend your arms, and then get drunk.
Lie down and rest less. I realized that. The mountains are crowded and the flowing water is bright, which makes people doubt that it is not human. On the bridge pillar of the book.
According to the wild shallow waves, the sky is faint.
I want to get drunk and sleep on the grass.
It's a pity that a romantic wind didn't teach you to crush Qiong Yao.
Take off your saddle and rest at Qingyang Bridge, and there will be the sound of spring dawn in Du Yu.
Xi Jiang yue chong JIU
There is a little Mao Mao rain on the roof, and there is a heavy lake outside the river.
At that time, the circus was in the East, but today it is bleak in Nanpu.
Niannujiao Chibi Nostalgia
Gone forever, the waves are rough. Romantic figures through the ages. To the west of the old camp, people say it's the War of the Three Kingdoms, Battle of Red Cliffs. The steep rock wall, like thunder waves lapping against the river bank, waves like rolling up thousands of snow. As picturesque as a mountain, how many heroes there are at one time! Think back to Gong Jin, when Xiao Qiao just got married, he was handsome, holding a feather fan and wearing a black silk scarf. He talked and laughed, and it's all over. I am wandering in the battlefield today. I feel a feeling heart and give birth to white hair prematurely. Life is like a dream, and a bottle returns to the moon.
Don't hate yellow flowers, don't spit, and teach red powder to help each other.
You don't have to look at dogwood at the wine station. It's all over the world.
Ruan Langgui in Early Summer
Green locust, high willow, swallows, new cicadas, the wind first enters the string.
Wash away the heavy smoke under the blue screen window, and the sound of chess during the day scares you to sleep.
After a light rain, the lotus turned over and the pomegranate blossomed.
Jade basin hand tanchun, Zhu Qiong broken and round.
Youth tour Runzhou, sent on behalf of others.
I saw him off last year. It was snowing outside Hangzhou.
At the end of spring this year, flowers are blooming like snow, and my home is still not seen.
Invite the bright moon to the wine curtain, and the wind will penetrate the screen window.
Just like [female gen], I cherish my face, clearly showing it, and painting the beam obliquely.
Quail day
Forest broken mangosteen hidden wall cicada rotten pond grass
When you turn it over, you can always see the blank bird. Press the pink color and it will smell sweet.
Outside the hut, beside the ancient city, sticks and quinoa turned to the sunset.
Diligence It rained all night last night, which made it cool for a day.
Drunk, left Beijing to work
Light clouds and moonlight awakened the ship at the beginning of the second watch.
The lonely city looks back at the light smoke.
When you remember a song, you don't remember the season.
The towel slipped on the rattan bed, and no one said anything.
When will this life drift?
Home is in the southwest, longing for the southeast.
Answer: May 5, 2008 13: 34
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Lonely orchids in a deserted valley-(of a person) of high moral character.
[Master] Nian Nujiao missed Su Shi in Chibi.
The surging river flows eastward, and those heroes of the past are gone forever. To the west of the old camp, people say it's the War of the Three Kingdoms, Battle of Red Cliffs. The steep rock wall, like thunder waves lapping against the river bank, waves like rolling up thousands of snow. The majestic rivers and mountains are picturesque, and many heroes emerge at once.
Looking back on Zhou Yu's spring breeze era, young and beautiful Joe just married him, and he was full of heroic spirit. A white figure with a feather fan came face to face, and while talking and laughing, the enemy warships burned to ashes. I am wandering in the battlefield today. I feel a feeling heart and give birth to white hair prematurely. Things are like a dream, a bottle or a month.
Ding Feng Bosu's poems
On March 7th, it was raining on Hu Sha Road. The rain gear went first, and the peers were all in a mess. I couldn't feel it alone. It has cleared up, so just pretend to be like this.
Don't pay attention to the beating rain in the forest. Mei sings a long whistle and walks leisurely. Bamboo poles and sandals are more dexterous than riding horses. What's to be afraid of? A raincoat and hemp fiber, despite the wind and rain, still live my life.
The coolness of spring breeze awakens my wine, and the cold begins to be cold, and the peak of the sun is the sun, but it is satisfied in time. Looking back at the place where I met the wind and rain, going back, for me, there is no wind and rain, but it is still sunny.
Jiangchengzi went hunting in Michigan.
Su Shi
I am a teenager. The left side leads to yellow and the right side leads to blue. Golden hat, mink and fur, thousands of riding rolls and leveling posts. In order to repay the people of the whole city for following my generous hunting proposal, I will shoot this tiger myself like Sun Quan.
The wine is full and the box is still open. What's wrong with the slight frost on the temple? Hold a festival in the clouds, when to send the phoenix hall. Bow like a full moon, look northwest and shoot Sirius.
Pipa line Bai Juyi
In the evening, I bid farewell to a guest on Xunyang River. Maple leaves and mature rushes rustle in autumn.
I, the host, have dismounted, my guest has boarded his boat, and we raise our cups, hoping to drink-but, alas, there is no music.
Although we drank a lot of wine, we were not happy. When we were leaving each other, the river mysteriously widened in the direction of the full moon.
We heard a sudden sound, a guitar crossed the water, the host forgot to go home and the guests left.
We followed the melody, asked the player's name, and the voice was interrupted ... and then she reluctantly answered.
We moved the boat closer to hers, invited her to join us, and summoned more wine and lanterns to start our party again.
However, before she came to us, we called a thousand times and urged her for a thousand times, but she still hid half of her face behind her guitar from us.
... she turned the tuning pin and tested several strings, and even before she played, we could feel her feelings.
Every string is a kind of meditation, and every note is a kind of deep thinking, as if she were telling us the pain of her life.
She frowned, bent her fingers, and then started her music, letting her heart share everything with us bit by bit.
She brushes the strings, twists them slowly, sweeps them and plucks them, first "Nishang" and then "Six Yao".
Big strings hum like rain, and small strings whisper like secrets.
Humming, whispering-and then mixing together, like pouring large and small pearls into a plate of jade.
Between Guan Ying's words, the bottom of the flower is slippery, so you can't swallow the spring scenery and flow under the ice.
The ice spring is cold and astringent, as if it can't pass; And notes, fade away.
The depth of sadness and the hiding of sadness are more told in silence than in voice.
A silver vase suddenly burst, pouring out a stream of water, jumping out of the conflict and blow between armored horses and weapons.
Before she put down the pick, her stroke was over, and all four strings made a sound, just like tearing silk.
The east ship was silent, and the west ship was silent. We saw the white autumn moon entering the river.
She tied it thoughtfully on the rope, stood up and smoothed her clothes, serious and polite.
Tell us how she spent her girlhood in the capital and lived in her parents' house in Toad Hill.
She mastered the guitar at the age of thirteen, and her name ranked first in the list of musicians.
Quba once taught good people to yield, and her beauty envied all the leading dancers.
How did the aristocratic youths in Wuling compete generously? Countless red silks were given to a song.
And the blood color of the skirt was stained by wine, China.
Season after season, joy followed, and neither the autumn moon nor the spring breeze attracted her attention.
Until her brother went to war, and then her aunt died, and the night passed, and the night came, and her beauty disappeared.
There were fewer and fewer cars and horses in front of the door, and finally she married herself to a businessman.
Who, first of all, stole money, accidentally left her and went to Fuliang to buy tea a month ago.
She has been taking care of an empty boat in the estuary, with no companions except the bright moon and cold water.
Sometimes in the middle of the night, she dreams of her victory and is awakened from her dream by her hot tears.
Her first guitar note made me sigh. Now, after listening to her story, I feel even sadder.
We were all unhappy until the end of the day, when we met. We understand. What is the relationship between acquaintances? !
A year ago, I left the capital and came here. Now I am a sick Jiujiang exile.
Jiujiang is so far away that I haven't heard music, neither strings nor bamboo sounds for a whole year.
My residence is near the town by the river, low and humid, and the house is surrounded by bitter reeds and yellow rushes.
What can you hear here in the morning and evening? The cuckoo's bleeding cry, the ape's sobbing.
I often pick up the wine and drink it alone in the spring morning with flowers and the autumn night with moonlight shining.
Of course, there are folk songs and bagpipes in the village, but they are rough and harsh, and they are harsh in my ears.
Tonight, when I heard you playing the guitar, I felt that my hearing was illuminated by wonderful music.
Don't leave us. Come, sit down. Play it for us again. I will write a Long song about guitar. ..
... she was moved by my words, stood there for a while, and then sat down to play her strings-they sounded even sadder.
Although the tune was different from what she had played before, all the listeners covered their faces.
But which of them cried the most? ? This Jiujiang official. My blue sleeves are wet.
Thoughts in the dead of night
Lipper
The foot of my bed is shining so brightly. Is there frost already?
I looked up at the moon and looked down, feeling nostalgic.
Tidal whitish pedicle
Lipper
Early in the morning, I bid farewell to Jiangling city, which is high into the sky, thousands of miles away, and the boat is only one day away. The cries of apes on both sides of the strait are still unconsciously crowing in their ears, and the canoe has passed the heavy green hills.