Linjiang Xian. Mandarin dreams are in a hurry. He Zhuge
Light smoke and mist are raining, and the clouds are thick and sorrowful. Look at the remnants of the red according to the window. Now that I am gone, there will be a reunion one day.
The mirror flowers and water are in the dust, and the dream of the mandarin duck is in a hurry. Whoever is the same as the complaint. There is no solution to the outpouring of the intestines, and the hatred is endless when drunk.
Linjiang Xian. Hate the front edge. He Zhuge
The past is still in a dream, pouring a glass and getting drunk. I didn't get involved when I met you. This heart is bright and cold, giving me half a cold.
Thousands of mountains block the returning geese, and the poor dust is full of red notes. Spring breeze and autumn rain year after year. It is difficult to be satisfied, and there is no way to hate the front edge.
Ruan Langgui. It's like a fog. Li Yuge
The Spring Festival is alone on the wine, and the lovesickness is another year.
The small words on the red note were full of tears, and the time was gone.
Love is like fog, dreams are like smoke. The west building is half bent in the moon.
The wind blows up the falling flowers, and the sorrowful pile refers to the winding.
Ruan Langgui. A Dream of Huangliang. Li Yuge
The evening wind comes at dusk, and the moon is like a bow by the railing.
There is no end to the gathering and dispersion of dust, and the affection is sealed on paper.
人憔悴,月朦胧。 愁来酒几盅。
The mountains are high and the water is far away from the west and east, and the yellow sorghum is empty.
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