On the Poems at the Beginning of Wu 1 Poems with Wu Ci
Li He, Shu Tong, Zhang, and Kong Shan all stagnated.
Jiang Yue wept for Motome's sadness, while Ping Li was playing China. Kunshan jade broken Fengming, hibiscus crying, Xianglan laughing.
The cold light melts in front of the twelve gates, and the twenty-three silk moves the purple emperor. Nu Wa makes up the sky by refining stones, and the stones break the ground to stir up the autumn rain.
Dream into the holy mountain to teach the gods, and the old fish dance with the waves. Wu Mian leans against the laurel tree, showing his feet and flying obliquely to wet cold rabbits.
In autumn, the south is empty and desolate, the river flows with the sky, and autumn is even more boundless. Seeing the mountains in the distance will only cause me sadness and resentment at the end of the country. These mountains are like a hairpin and a spiral coil on a woman's head.
The sun in the west leans against this floor, and geese are barking in the distant sky. I am wandering in the south of the Yangtze River, homesick for a wanderer. I look at this precious sword, I hold the railing upstairs, and no one understands the mind I am building now.
-Why don't Xin Qiji take Wu Gou and accept fifty states in Guanshan? Please go to Lingyange temporarily and be a scholar Wan Huhou. -Li He and Du Fu's Thirteen Poems of South Garden, two orioles singing green willows, and a line of egrets flying into the sky. The window contains the autumn snow in Xiling, Menbo, and Wan Li boarded Yueyang Tower [Du Fu], and I have heard about Dongting Lake for a long time, so I'm here today.
The vast lake tore Wu Chu apart, as if the sun, moon and stars were floating in the water. There is no news from my friends or relatives. I am old and sick, drifting in a boat.
The battle of the north gate began again, and I cried through the railing. In Wang Changling, in the Lotus Inn where Xin Jian left, it was freezing and rainy, even by the river at night. Wu sent guests to Chushan, and relatives and friends in Luoyang asked Bing Xin. Xin Qiji lived in the village, with low eaves and green grass beside the stream.
When you are drunk, your voice is charming and your hair is white. The eldest son is hoeing bean creek in the east, and the second son is knitting a chicken coop. He likes children scoundrels best, lying at the head of the stream peeling lotus flowers.
Sauvignon Blanc, Surabaya, flowing to Guazhou ancient ferry, Wu Shan is a little sad. Think of dragons, hate dragons, hate to rest when returning, and the moon people lean on the building.
When Bai Juyi and Li Bai boarded the Phoenix Terrace in Nanjing, the Phoenix, which was once played here, was named after them, but now it has been abandoned to this desolate river. Martial arts flowers were laid on deserted paths, and the number of relatives and friends in the Jin Dynasty has become a famine.
Three mountains and a half fall outside the blue sky, and Egret Island is wet. There is always a traitor in power, like covering the sky, and Chang' an is depressed when he can't see it.