Willow moon shadow, several degrees of return to the swallow dream, wind and rain. The flute rhymes red, and the lonely spring window gives idle pens. Where to pull the silk and fall the ink, pick up the ruler, and worry about the words. But the Tao is, bamboo tears are thousands of drops, it is difficult to complain about all kinds of meanings. Smoke is clean, water is blue.
A warm wave, shallow drunken light memory. Dark wisps of incense, suspicious of Taoyuan paintings. Love the cold river across the bank, snow moist and new green. Magpies haunt the trees, butterflies play colorfully, and the leaves carry the song.
Candles spit out the light, the night shadow is lonely, the ink is fragrant, and the silk is cut. Strong strokes of the pen clear bamboo, spring gushing horizontal wave eyes. Who pities the wind everywhere, with the smoke clouds, a thousand red trees. Ask with whom to sigh, the moon is confused, the ghost is neglected.
Du Yu recognized the flower shadow, and the west window cut the moon. Into the strings of clear rhymes with humor. Where to send Yaoser, QiMeng and Junfeng. The world is beautiful, and the smoke is full of trees. Bixi Herbs Reflect Lan Peak. Don't ask about glitz, don't ask about water piaoping. Mo asked about the dust in the play, a song of piano sound.
The ripples of yobi lean on the moon, and Yazi enters the painting to write the lotus wind. Bing Xin is not jealous of the bustling things, and the humor is shallow and drunk to pay the lonely kite. Lyrical, v. ordinary life. Thousands of thoughts turn into ethereal. Ancient and modern who solve the dream of red dust, Qingyin a song to listen to the sound of lotus.
The green wind is frightening, the apricot leaves are yellow, and the miserable cold rain buckles the autumn window. Depressed courtyard cold smoke cover, to the corner of the lone lamp night longer. Ink scrolls, reminiscences, Chunhua Dreams and Jun's Death. A thousand rods are silent in the evening tears, and a piano sound has been broken.
Rusu Bingxin poured ink incense, looking back at the light brush strokes. The clouds are dancing in the south of the River, and the flowing water is sad to send the voyage. Swinging place, continuing poems, moon title Mei Zi Ying Xi Xiang. Xueying Bamboo Rhyme invited qin to get drunk, and did not ask the west wind to talk about the cool night.
Silhouette silver butterfly jade color new, a realm of glass, wing dream Chihiro. The popular calligraphy and painting pen is still late, and the plain rhyme Qiongzhi has drunk the soul of mei. The sleeves are clean and dusty, not envious of yaotai, only moist and pure. Danqing has nowhere to copy, pouring out the world, proud of the bone ice heart.
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