w.haolusi.com 1. Spring city is full of flying flowers everywhere, with cold food. The east wind sways the willows. Candles spread in the Han Palace at dusk, and light smoke scattered into the homes of the Five Marquises. 2. &quo; In the past; It is our dying mother, not something that has already passed away. Our future constantly makes her appear in our hearts. 3. However, as you leave, passing through a small gap, suddenly a real light shines through our stage: the most real green among all, the real trees, the sun. 4. The small road in the south of the city is once again in spring, where only plum blossoms are seen and no one is seen; Jade bones have long become the soil under the spring, ink marks still lock the dust between the walls. 5. The slanting sun on the city paints a mournful corner, and Shen Yuan is not a retro pool and platform. Under the sad bridge, the spring waves are green, once a startled swan shone in the shadows. 6. The dust fills the sparse curtains and the air floats, making it a pitiful night in darkness. A few times I stole my tears from wiping my green clothes, and suddenly I saw Cuiqiao by the rhinoceros box. Only hatred turns boring, and the falling tide of flowers still lingers at five o'clock. The withered leaves of the willow tree are hard to finish, and the cold rain and the west wind are drawing bridges. 7. The warblers on the roadside sing and the fine grass smolders, and the fish scales wind wrinkles and water forms patterns. Jiangnan red beans suffer from lovesickness, and every year flowers bloom, I remember my lord. 8. Forty years have passed since my dream was broken, and the willows in Shen Yuan are old and do not blow. This body is like the soil of Jishan, still lingering with a lingering trace. 9. Tears swallowed silently, only destroying the past with affection. With the help of painting, one can reflect on oneself and achieve success. A sad scene cannot be painted. Don't speak clearly. Midnight, clear dreams wake up early. Qingzi wakes up early and dreams of myself, even more so. Weeping endlessly, the wind eaves and rain bells at night. 10. Sitting idle, I also feel sorry for myself. A hundred years is a long time. Deng You, without a son, seeks to know his fate, while Pan Yue mourns his passing with great effort. What do you hope for in the same cave? His fate will be even more difficult. I will open my eyes all night long, to repay my life without raising my eyebrows. 11. The dense lock covers the green moss, and the deep corridor lingers here. The prophet's wind rises and the moon is faint, yet the cold dew and flowers have not yet bloomed. The bat brushed the curtain and the banner finally spread, and the mouse flipped through the window net, guessing in surprise. With the lamp on my back, I share the lingering fragrance, yet I don't realize it's like singing at night. 12. Fifty strings without reason, one string and one pillar, reflecting on the years of prosperity. Zhuangsheng dreams of falling in love with butterflies, looking forward to the emperor's spring heart supporting the cuckoo. The bright moon in the vast sea has tears, and the warm jade in the blue fields produces smoke. This situation can be recalled for thousands of years, but it was already lost at that time. 13. Ten years of life and death are two vast expanses. Without hesitation, one will never forget. A thousand miles of solitary tomb, with nowhere to speak of desolation. Even if we meet, we should not know each other. Dust covers our faces, and our temples are like frost. 14. My stomach is a furnace that burns all living things. When I fall, a larger and hotter furnace burns me; My body will bend into a kneeling posture, begging for mercy from all creatures that have crossed my stomach - all grievances will be taken away by fire, and all impurities related to me will be taken away by wind.