Who knows the poems about Ganzhou?

Who does Xiao Li hate? The snow suddenly turned over the fragrant pavilion, and the breeze blew the bottle of plum, and the heart turned to dust.

Bodhisattva is beautiful

A few rustling leaves are windy and rainy, and it is more bitter to be separated from others. Counting the autumn, the toad puts out the early strings.

Night cold shock, tears falling snuff. Sorrow is everywhere, and the jade piano is light dust.

and

The flower slave drum didn't stop, but after waking up, she saw the red dance. I couldn't bear to reply and cried a few lines in the breeze.

Don't look at the powder fragrance, only the moon fragrance is left. The moon at that time was also different, sad and clear.

and

Spring clouds blow away the rain from the curtain of Hunan, and sticky butterflies fly to life. People are in Yulou, and the wind is everywhere.

A handful of willow tobacco, a colorful cage and a tile. If you don't work closer, the sunset will be infinite.

Bodhisattva is beautiful

It didn't stop raining until after the flowers, and there was no language between the fingers. Liang Yan came back from double, long pulse.

Xiao Ping has far mountains and light makeup. Independent Yao stage, cold-proof gold shoes.

and

The crystal curtain is sad and white, and the clouds are fragrant and foggy. I have nothing to ask about clothes, and the moon has gone west.

The west wind is blowing in the weft, so you are not allowed to sleep. Just last autumn, how to cry.

Linjiangxian

A little banana heart will be broken, and the sound reminds me of the beginning. I want to sleep and read old books. Yuanyang small print, still remember unfamiliar hands.

Tired eyes are low and confused, half blurred. Cold rain outside the window, Yi Deng lonely. What is expected should be done. What is the truth?

and

I made an appointment last night, Yancheng Yulu that night. A crescent moon and a few sparse stars. It's still late at night and people are still watching the lights.

Originally, Qu tang style shielded each other, which made people hate others. It is quiet outside. Several heartbroken places, wind-driven flower bells.

Common poppy/corn poppy/poppy

Chun Qing only noticed that the pear blossoms were thin and scattered in pieces. What is the sunset near dusk? There is still no soul in the world.

Yinyin doesn't dream of the words at that time, but is close to each other. Be a dreamer for Iraq and call for truth in the dark.

and

Reunion in the depths of the winding aperture, tears even to people. Sorrow and parting should be the same, at most, there is no clear resentment between months.

Sleeping alone for half a life, the mountain pillow is stained with sandalwood. Recall what is the most fascinating thing. The first move is to draw a skirt.

and

The silver bed is green and old, and the autumn color sweeps the powder. There is a lot of money in the incense shop. Why can't you hate it when you pick it up?

The cloister is full of lovesickness, and the moon is lonely. Ten years' journey and ten years' heart.

Once again (walking in autumn)

Sorrow marks are everywhere, no one can save them, and dew is wet. The stroll is small and desolate. Xiaoxiang still has the old moonlight.

The fickle feeling turned into sadness and fatigue, and the music was heartbreaking. The red lettering on the wall is blurred, remembering that the hand in front of the lamp is an Iraqi book.

Yun Song's orders about temples.

The pillow is fragrant, and the flower diameter leaks. Make an appointment to meet and whisper after dusk. The season is thin and cold, the wine is sick, the pear blossom shovel, and the east wind is thin all night.

Cover the silver screen and hang down your sleeves. Where the flute is played, the pulse is slightly funny. Heartbroken moon and cardamom, the moon seems to be at that time, and people seem to be at that time.

Blue wet mourning

There are too many sad things recently. Who can I tell about the long night? Everything is subject to fate. In early spring, the green shadows are dancing outside the window, the geese are returning, and the orioles are singing and dancing, and tears are streaming down their faces.

I enjoyed the beautiful scenery with you in the past, but now I have lost it and failed to live up to my past affection. Suddenly a gust of wind blew and the breeze shook. I thought it was your soul, but I can only wait for the end of love.

Three days before the Spring Festival in Qinyuan, the woman who died in her dream was dressed in plain clothes, holding her hand and sobbing, and she couldn't remember clearly. However, there is a parting cloud: "I hope to hate the sky and the moon, but I will still pay a New Year call to Yuen Long every year." I don't know why I got this, because I didn't write a poem, but I felt endowed after I felt it.

It's so unlucky that it's fleeting. How can you forget it when you are depressed? Remember to embroider the couch when you are free, and blow and rain; Carve a hole, bend a corner and lean against the sunset. Dreams are hard to stay, poems can't be long, and you win deeper tears. The body is still there, but my spirit is soaring. I am not allowed to see it anymore.

Find the blue sky again. Short hair is expected to have frost in the morning. It is heaven and earth, and the dust is unbreakable; Spring flowers and autumn leaves still hurt. If you plan ahead, you will be surprised and lose all the fragrance of Xun Yu yesterday. Really helpless, the sound of money is adjacent to the flute, and the ileum records.

In mid-July, the fourth night is stormy, and tomorrow is the birthday of the dead woman.

Dust filled the curtains and floated around, which really made the darkness miserable. A few times, I secretly wiped my shirt tears and suddenly saw Cui Qiao next to the rhinoceros.

Only hate becomes boring. Fifth, it is still in the morning. The withered poplar leaves are difficult to finish, and the cold rain and wind hit the bridge.

Nan Xiangzi wrote an inscription for his dead wife.

Tears are silent, only regret to get rid of fickle feelings, and rely on the painter to keep knowledge. Yingying. You can't draw it if you are sad.

Don't be too specific Wake up early in the middle of the night. Qing wakes up early and dreams more. Call the rain bell at night.

Reflections on the anniversary of the death of the female deceased in Golden Melody

When was this hatred? Lost step, cold rain rest, buried flowers. I had a long dream for three years. I think I woke up. Material also has feelings, and the world is tasteless. Not as cold and lonely as the dust on the night platform. The card issuer made a promise, but then abandoned it.

If there are Pisces in Chongquan. It is good to know him, who he has been suffering from, and who he is relying on. I turned around from midnight, and I endured listening to Xiang Xian's excuse. When it's over, he'll know himself. I'm afraid it's unlucky for both of them, and they're going to live in the wind and sleep outdoors again. Clear tears, confetti.

A butterfly in love with flowers

Hard work is the most regrettable thing about the bright moon. One night is like a ring, and the evening is a sigh. If the moon finally comes out, I will not hesitate to be roasted by snow and ice.

Without that dust, the swallow is still there, said the soft curtain hook. After singing the autumn grave, I didn't rest, and the spring bush recognized the amphibious butterfly.

A butterfly in love with flowers

Then he went to the place where Qingyang was broken, and without saying a word, he walked all over the clear autumn road with a whip. Grass has no intention of falling into the sky, and the sound of geese is as far away as xiaoguan.

I don't hate the hardships of the end of the world, but I hate the west wind blowing my dreams to the present. How much is the journey tomorrow? It's cold and rainy on your clothes.

Shanhuazi

Moss grows in the forest, and it cherishes the dust of jade bone Municipal Committee. There is nowhere to say before the wind, and the number is crying.

Half-life duckweed died with water, and a cold rain buried famous flowers overnight. The soul is like a willow sponge blown to pieces, surrounding the world.

Serenade of peace and joy/lyrics of peace, tranquility and joy

Sadly, the bleak yellow flower festival. In the dream, the anvil sound is muddy, more chaotic and more sad.

Dust gives birth to swallows, but the bed keeps strings. The wind is like a waning moon, but now it is worrying.

and

Lovers braved the wind and rain to date, because they sneaked out, so they often couldn't keep the appointment. She leaned over and looked at the moon, the moon, the whisper, and the smell of her body.

The soft wind blows through the window screen, and the heart is separated from the horizon. From then on, in the late spring, when the spring comes and the sun sets, she is the only one who misses it leisurely.

well

It's a golden well of pulleys, full of bricks and stones, red and cold. Suddenly, when we met, it was hard to be sure. Who saves, who saves. Since then, I have been tattooed with light and shadow.