Lu Xun's poems mourn for Yang Quan (1933). Is there any pride like the old days? Flowers bloom and fall. When did you shed tears on Jiang Nanyu and cry for Simin? Used to spend the spring in the long night (1931), used to spend the spring in the long night, and the wife put silk on her young temples. In my dream, I vaguely shed tears for my mother, and the flag of the king changed at the head of the city. Endure to see peers become new ghosts, and look for small poems in anger. There is no place to write, and the moonlight shines like water. Self-mockery (1932) what did you want when you handed over the canopy, but you didn't dare to turn over and met. A broken hat covers a busy city, and a leaky boat carries wine. Fierce-browed, I coolly defy a thousand pointing fingers, Head-bowed, like a willing ox I serve the children. Hide in the small building into a unified, regardless of winter and summer and spring and autumn. Answering the guest Chen (1932) Ruthlessness may not be a real hero. How can Reiko not be a husband? Do you know that those who make a noise are smaller than Tu when looking back? My brothers' dreams often go to their hometown, and they believe in human suffering and separation. Reclining on the bed at night, I remember my brothers, and the residual lights are like beans and moonshine. Mourning for Yang Quan is like the old days, when flowers bloom and fall. When did you shed tears on Jiang Nanyu and cry for Simin? My occasional work in the last autumn of the year of the sea has surprised the world and dared to send spring temperature to the pen. The sea of dust is boundless and heavy, and the golden wind is bleak. When I was old, I returned to osawa, and my dreams fell empty and my teeth became cold. Hearing that the wild chicken is lonely, it seems that the stars are dying. Untitled used to the long night in spring, the wife will have silk on her young temples. In my dream, I vaguely shed tears for my mother, and the flag of the king changed at the head of the city. Endure to see peers become new ghosts, and look for small poems in anger. There is no place to write, and the moonlight shines like water. Untitled ten thousand ink noodles have no Artemisia lai, and dare to sing and mourn. My mind is vast and even wide, and I listen to thunder in the silent place. Laugh at yourself for what you want from the canopy, but you dare not turn over and have met. A broken hat covers a busy city, and a leaky boat carries wine. Fierce-browed, I coolly defy a thousand pointing fingers, Head-bowed, like a willing ox I serve the children. Hide in the small building into a unified, regardless of winter and summer and spring and autumn. Self-titled little elephant Lingtai has no plan to escape from God's arrow, and the wind and rain are like a dark hometown. I send a message to Han Xing that I will recommend Xuanyuan with my blood. It is still there to prevent Yu Dafu from moving to Hangzhou for a vacation, and Wu Xiang can't be found with the waves. Peace and harmony, hatred and health purlin, hill fragrance all over Gao Cen. The grave is deserted by the general Yue, and the plum crane is desolate in the forest. It seems that the whole family is traveling far away, and the storm is full of songs.