Listen carefully to the cry of Du Yu in Chunshan, each sound is a farewell poem.

Ying Lian's teeth are imprinted with green moss, the small buckle firewood door cannot be opened for a long time, the garden is full of spring scenery and cannot be closed, and a branch of red apricot comes out of the wall.

Ten miles away in the spring breeze, all the shepherds and wheat are green.

Spring is in the midst of the flowers and the sound of birds.

The east wind blows the rain finer than dust.

Yesterday the spring was like a thirteenth daughter learning to embroider, but the branches did not teach the flowers to grow thin.

Spring is always full of rain and wind, but when the wind and rain clear up, the spring is gone.

The wild grass is green in the spring shade, and sometimes there are flowers and trees. I park my boat under the ancient temple at night, watching the wind and rain in the river.