1. Falling red is not a heartless thing, it turns into spring mud to protect flowers, from Gong Zizhen's "Miscellaneous Poems of Jihai"

2. Lin Daiyu's "Ode to Burial Flowers" in "A Dream of Red Mansions" They are full of aphorisms about falling leaves, such as: Once the spring is gone, the beauty will grow old, and the flowers will fall and people will die without knowing it. 3. The whereabouts of the hibiscus dew and the willows combed in the moon are from Xiao Cui's "Autumn Thoughts" 4. The blue sky, the yellow leaves on the ground, the autumn colors are rolling, and the cold smoke and green on the waves are from Fan Zhongyan's "Su Mu Zhe" 5. The monk can't figure out how to count Jiazi, one leaf The world knows autumn. From the Quotations of Tang Zixi

The autumn wind of Dongli chrysanthemum wine has passed by, leaving only fallen leaves everywhere in the eyes

The autumn wind is clear, the moon is bright, the fallen leaves have gathered and scattered, the jackdaws are roosting, and they are startled. We miss each other. We know when we are here. It's embarrassing to be here and now

The moon is newly crushed into a vase, and after drinking it, I call my son to learn the poems of Chu. There are no fallen leaves in Fengding Xiaoxuan, and caterpillars are relatively spinning autumn silk.

There are many fallen leaves in the palm garden, and I feel relieved to know that it is autumn

There are no fallen leaves in the wind-filled Xiaoxuan, and the caterpillars are relatively spinning autumn threads

It is not inevitable that the autumn atmosphere is sad, and it is slightly cold. It's so pleasant. The green pond has all fallen and the red flowers have fallen, but the fallen leaves are still blooming at the smallest level

Listen to the rain and the colder, the door is open and the leaves are falling deeply

The willows beside the Yangtze River in the west wind, the fallen leaves are not as many as Li Si.

The fallen leaves gather and disperse, and the jackdaws roost and startle again

The rain hits the banana clouds, the fallen leaves are blown by the wind, and the willow flowers are flying.

Poetry and prose have a physical connection. Like leaves belonging to branches, there is also a mechanical connection that is thrown to the ground like fallen leaves. The wind of heaven stirs the leaves like fire and tunes tunes, but the wind of heaven is God's mill for the fallen leaves, grinding them to pieces on the stone mill of the underworld and turning them into fertile soil.