Reading does not feel that spring is deep, a mountain and a water floating and sinking

Ten miles of spring wind, begonias before rain, pear blossoms first snow, picking chrysanthemums under the eastern fence, leisurely see the South Mountain.

Time is like a long river, the meandering water flows, the time is shallow and drunk, a mountain and a water, the personnel is floating and sinking, and in the blink of an eye, the past has become a cloud.

I see how feminine the green mountains are,

Aoyama laughed at me for being sentimental.

Yellow chrysanthemum, tuberose,

Bee dances to pick flower tea.

Wine full of Ou, flowers full of buildings,

Ten thousand waves of self-absorption.

Brew a pot of tea, read a book, burn a pillar of incense, the rain outside the window stops at the beginning, the drunkenness is strong, people wake up for the first time, floating like dreams, idle and relaxed, licking deeply.

Take the old book back to the old cain,

The empty mountain returns to give Tsevi.

Reading a book, the years are like songs, flowers and grasses, all are romantic, a mountain and a water, all are gentle.

Reading a book, the time is cool and thin, the world is cold, for the sake of breaking silver, running, galloping, chasing, endless, Wushan clouds and rain, like a dream, covering up the scroll and thinking, long roaring and singing.

Reading a book, the world is looking down, elegant and calm, poor and destined, He Lao sighed, but know how to do good things, do not ask about the future.

Houguan lights are cool in the rain, the small building breeze and moon invade the bed, but the amorous but ruthlessly annoyed, the spring wind is a rich family.

New green between the branches, a heavy weight,

Little bud is hidden deeply, counting red dots.

Lilacs, incense-soaked, a tree prosperous, the avenue to Jane, the trail is quiet, drunk with the wanderer's clothes, drunk with a leaf boat on the way home, drunk with spring breeze and several plums.

Some people, clouds and smoke into rain, the past with the wind, gently like falling leaves, quiet like flowing water, the king is not seen, the moon is like water, wipe away the tears of heroes.

Some things, hurried by, have become a foregone conclusion, many wrong roads, now safe, blue birds and fish are not on the same road, and since then the mountains and rivers have not met.

There are slanderous books in the left column, and there are multiplied and divided everywhere in the world, and they bow their heads and worship the slaughtering sheep and say that all things are too vain.

Rain falls on the steps, moss stains the walls,

Strange flowers, slowly return,

Lilac purple, small garden incense,

Birds in the spring, through the forest wind.

The wine is happy, the old man is thin, and he sees the pieces of maple leaves red, the thoughts are like a tide, up and down, the qinghuan is still the same, the meeting is as before, the Tao is ruthless but affectionate.

The wind of the small building is fixed, the beginning of the month is oblique,

Purple jade new branches, falling xia.

Reading does not feel that spring is deep, an inch of time and an inch of gold, a jade dew Xiapu Golden House, a mountain and a water floating and sinking.

I have a scoop of wine, with whom to cross the red dust.

Yanlai people are independent, double play cloud water.

A pot of wine, Tang Shi three hundred drunken building railings, high places are not cold, golden hook iron horse into dreams, breaking the ice, the sun is like blood, the spring wind does not cross the jade gate.

A cup of tea, a breeze and water, a distant guest returning late, a light fragrance of tea, a lot of laughter, no wine and tea, you can also drink, spring full of pots to stay in the spring drunk, tea fragrant seat waiting for the king to come.

A book, leaning on the window to listen to the wind and rain, dew to accompany the flowers to sleep, a journey to the mountains, a journey to the water, bumps and bumps, a change in the wind, a change in the rain, floating and sinking.

Nine times out of ten life is not satisfactory, only one thing is half satisfactory.

The spring wind is not suspicious of the end of the world, and in February, there are no flowers in the mountain city, because of the words of the monks in the bamboo courtyard, the floating life that is stolen is idle for half a day.

Time boils rain, the years leave incense, the spring wind hangs on the branches, the wind and dust dye the clothes, the old locust tree in the hometown, standing at the head of the village, like a loving mother's gaze gaze gazes at the wanderer affectionately.

Clothed, shouldered with snow, clothed by people's clothes, relieved of people's worries, shaken off half of the world's wind and frost, walked to the end of the mountain, sat and watched the clouds rise.

Hometown language, homeland conditions, send a curtain of spring wind ten miles, pull a season of autumn water Yiyi, suddenly look back, which person is there, the lights are dimmed.

Lift a lamp, the heart and mind, look for ideals, look for light, a lifetime of madness, a deep look back in five hundred years, in exchange for the only passing shoulder in this life.

A wisp of wind, can dance, a plum, can chant, without a cold bone, how to get plum blossoms fragrant.

The color of the mountains, the light of the water,

The dance of the wind, the fragrance of the flowers.

Wang Xiaobo said, "In a lifetime, we must not only experience the vicissitudes of the world, but also experience the poetic world."

Fishing in a lake of spring water, carrying the breeze, collecting the bright moon, throwing away the red beans, pouring out of love, speechless condensation, holding hands and looking at each other with tears, there is no word.

A mountain is cold, a water is soft, gentle can be expected,

A flower language, a grass low, romantic waiting.

The left hand is poetic, the right hand is fireworks, Ercao's body and name are extinguished, and the rivers and rivers are not wasted.

Alive, there are wind flowers and snow moons, chai rice oil and salt, half for a living, half for love, zero into mud and dust, only incense as before.

A thousand sails on the side of the sinking boat passed,

The sick tree in front of Wanmu Chun,

Listen to a song today,

For the time being, the spirit of the long glass of wine.