Yin Qing leaves, sorrow sunset branches, string suddenly broken, Russia tube uneven.
How far the cicada is, the leafy trees have echoes.
Pierce the butterfly deeply, and the dragonfly flies leisurely with the water.
The cicadas in autumn are so sad and urgent, facing the pavilion, it is in the evening and a sudden rain has just stopped.
A fly greedy for honey will surely drown in the honey slurry.
The butterfly flies over the wall, which is suspected to be the spring scenery next door.
The willow in the garden is cool, and the cicada should be surprised and orderly.
Spring swallows, the piano rings at the beginning, the Changfeng is still cut, and it is still between branches.
Cicadas don't cry, geese sing in the sky.
Crazy with catkins sometimes see, where to find a pear flower.
The sound of the stream surrounded the herb grass, and the rest echoed in Gao Xuan.
The body is torture to the soul; It is a hell, a fate, a burden, a powerful chain and an unbearable punishment.
The body is the channel through which we get all the help and strength from the material world.
The moth died on the lamp.