Li Bai: Raise your head to look at the bright moon, lower your head to miss your hometown.

I send my sorrowful heart to the bright moon, and follow the wind to the west of the night.

The mountains end with the plains, and the river flows into the wilderness.

The wandering clouds convey the love of an old friend.

There will be times when the wind blows and the waves break, and the cloud sails are hung directly to help the sea.

Cutting off the water with a knife will make it flow even more, and raising a cup to relieve sorrow will make it worse.

Li Shangyin: Why should I cut off the candles from the west window and talk about the rainy night in Bashan?

The spring silkworms will not run out until they die, and the wax torch will not dry until it turns to ashes.

Du Fu: It’s the beautiful scenery in the south of the Yangtze River, and we meet you again when the flowers are falling.

From the top of the mountain, you can see all the mountains and small mountains at a glance.

I shed tears when I am grateful for the flowers, and I hate others and scare the birds. The war rages on for three months, and a letter from home is worth ten thousand gold.

There are thousands of mansions in Ande, which can shelter all the poor people in the world.

Southeast of Wu and Chu, the universe floats day and night.

But seeing where his wife was worried, she was filled with poems and books filled with joy.