Wen | Li Baocai
Two thousand one hundred and seventy-six
Xiang Qiuyun ferry geese long,
Mountain dew frost wind light cool.
When the red curtain falls, the heart is cold,
Ye Rong was scattered with vicissitudes.
Two thousand one hundred and seventy-seven
Fragrant smoke mist hidden autumn hong,
The mountain maple is full of rhyme.
Red Ridge ascended to the top of me,
Leaf weaving scenery in the arms.
Two thousand one hundred and seventy-eight
The incense leaves me and I leave poems,
When the mountains and blue skies fall.
The mangrove trees shake in autumn,
Ye Fenxiayun was delusional in her dreams.
Two thousand one hundred and seventy-nine
Fragrant autumn grass and wood dance remnants of the sun,
The mountain is proud of itself and does not break the intestines.
Red letters frost tears,
Ye Yan can fill my poetry bag.
Two thousand one hundred and eighty
Xiangyue exploring the autumn strings half sheet,
The mountain bomb cinnamon dew is cool.
Red maple is impatient with acacia cold,
Ye Lao Shuang's heart supported the dream long.
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