Chapter 8 1940
Don't be like others, Sui Yiyi is like someone else, and when you go away, you don't love your relatives.
An inch of gold is usually worth it, but a ruler and a biscuit know how valuable it is at night.
I want to take advantage of the dim lights to prolong the urgent scene, and I have already fought for the fire to come to spring.
I still recognize each other because of the Ming Dynasty, and I am ashamed of Xixi Wantai.
In the third day of the new year, it has been sunny, and the sound of chanting and rain is sent again.
The house is as humble as you can ask, and the heart is so sad that it can't be named.
The old travels are full of dreams, and the new plan is full of books.
Pick up the sentence of the lonely museum in the mountain city, which is like my situation at this time.
"Notes": Lai Shi Youyun, Mountain City Guguan Yu Xiaoxiao
There is a voiceless sound in singing wind and bamboo, like telling the fainting lights to cover up the heart.
Who will want to dream forever tonight, but teach me to imprison me thousands of mountains deep.
If you can't fly, you can't write poems, and your tweezers are white and old.
It's hard to sleep alone and let the rats bite, waking up alone has been the most difficult thing since ancient times.
Poetry Yuan Wei said to himself, My poems are full of vitality, and they will fly away if I don’t catch them.
The isolated city is surrounded by chaotic mountains, and there are too few spring lands.
Spring should disdain to come, Xinzheng suddenly Xialong.
Sunset Peak spits out shade, and the darkness is like an embrace.
Mo Ne loses its density, and the moon loses its brightness.
Shouxuanxing has no candles, and fireflies come out withered grass.
Guming is only a little bit, but his self-portrait is not good.
Due to the small things, the light protects the world.
Liuhui sits in human clothes, flying to the end of the tree.
From the depths of the night, into the depths of the night.
It took me a hundred years to walk a long way.
I don't know what to do, but I am afraid of falling down.
Distinguishing the path depends on the light of the heart, and the wind and fireflies light up.
Erhao and Bollworm are equal in size.
God sees dreams and dreams, and the future is bleak.
Dongshan does not go out of the moon, and Manman waits for the dawn.
Sorrow brings poetry to support, and life knows that worry is the source of poetry.
It is better to have sorrow than to have no poetry, and I wish to have no sorrow without writing poetry.
Gradually the last rays of light fade away, and the mountains are hidden, and the crows are still envious of Yuhan.
The dusk is still dark and the moon is slightly teased, and the torrents are reluctant to give up and hear the turmoil.
It's not too much trouble to say two words, and it's hard to live in peace with all kinds of patience.
There is still Jiangnan who has a good heart, stay in spring and wait for me and come back to see.
In the past, when you sleep and wake up, you can manage your residual dreams, and things in spring become overcast and bloom late.
Worry is all over the place, and the reduction of joy is already a luxury.
The guest feast is thrown into the ice, and the charcoal is thrown, and the rice is cooked in the sand.
The pen and inkstone can still be driven, and the girl can smear the years.
You can seek the Que to change the Pian'an, and re-divide Ma Yuanshan from one corner.
Try to ban a few pieces of liver and intestines, and teach the lips and teeth to lose their relationship.
Accumulating dust for the rest of the world and fleeing for the end of the world, even asking questions after mending stones is also stubborn.
Yin Wang's head is about to turn white, but he doesn't respond to his old age.
The day is long for a nap, and I am still sleepy when I wake up.
The horn stops and the sound is still curling up, and the dream is still awake.
Under the scorching sun in the courtyard, the breeze occasionally passes by.
At this time, I closed my eyes and listened, and my feet were full of autumn thoughts.
The sunset holds Yaoxiu, and the sky wraps around the small village.
Only for sitting and lying down, and day and night.
If the court is empty, it is better to receive the moon, but if there is no moon, I will be fine.
The frogs in the pavilions and pavilions become the city, and there are little fireflies in the night.
It's hard to find Ambenda, talk with blindfold books.
Except for the rumors, the night cherishes the day.
Who will undo the glue on the sticky day, and throw away the light booklet temporarily.
Books are hard to capture without much heart, and the night is deep and the world is full.
In January, the sky is still vaguely pinched, and the bath dew of hundreds of insects is suddenly noisy.
The eyebrows hinder the hat and the hat can stop, and Xuanju continues to explain the ridicule with great shame.
"Notes": Anthology B of Yuan Poems, Yuanhuai Jin "Adding water to the mouth" chanting the new moon at Duanyang, looking at a round moon from a distance, pinching Chu Tianqing
Sleep is like drinking and debts are common, and there are no plans to forget both joys and sorrows.
Birth and death, the mind is exhausted and the body is restless, living in the empty world makes the night longer.
The frogs invite the rain to invite the sky to listen, and the insects weep to know that the autumn hangs and the moon dies.
And several eaves of teeth are dripping, which induces sleep and relieves annoyance, so that it is cool.
There are thousands of plans to give up, only to return to the heart and not to restrain the horse.
It is difficult to get out of the Qingtian Avenue, and the Yangtze River thinks about it day and night.
I have heard of dry sorrow and stubborn sorrow in ancient times, but now I am so sad and dumb.
The mouth can't say the words and the books can't be exhausted, Wan Hu's chest goes up and down from time to time.
Suspecting ghosts and ghosts according to the heart and soul, it is absolutely like the city fox mouse Tibetan society.
If you want to spit out your throat, but you can't, what can you do if you touch your tongue?
A sigh is better than Yuanming Qin, and the silence on the strings is less interesting.
Injustices are still heard, and I am the only one who worries about writing poems.
Shicheng chatters so much that it is false to scratch at the boots.
Fuyan tea drinkers in Jiangxi Valley, Liu denounces Duling Tang drinkers.
It is really a widow to have wine but no food. If tea meets cheese, is it not a slave?
Unexpectedly, the food is more suitable for meat, and the heart is half of the perch.
Dao Sheng can be fat, why should he be vulgar, and he is not willing to laugh.
"Comments": Song Barnyard Banknotes, Fu Bi said that the valley was just a tea drinker, Lu Shen stopped and recorded, Liu Jian said that Li Du was just two drunks
The solitary firefly and the hidden bamboo are dimly lighted, and the cool air accumulates frost after the rain.
Tell Qiuxin Chongyu in detail, and pass on the wind and leaf corridors.
I can't get tired of seeing each other for many months, and it's better to live. How can there be a hometown?
Like a pot, like a melon, you don't know it, and the stars fly down and suddenly get lost.
Meteors are like clouds like melon clouds, see Astronomical Chronicles of the Later Han Dynasty
The water in the wild pond slowly floats the nose of the cow, and the dust of the ancient road turns without the head of the horse.
Urgently waiting for the breeze to kill the summer heat, we will be able to white dew and fertilize the new autumn.
Going out hinders general Xi Shi, and the setting sun is boundless, full of worries.
It's better to go back than to think about it, it's tiring to lean against tall buildings in the dark.
Xu Zhongche's water in the Huaihe River, the place where the setting sun is about to set, is full of sorrows in the world, past and present
Make up for the celadon and turn the jade plate, and brew the new cold in the late autumn night.
I don't know where the railing is good, so I can take a look at it by the moon.
In previous years, we shared cups and plates at night and night, and it was cold for no reason.
If you have to go back with the wind, let people see the cold moon in the poor mountains.
In the dry shade village, the sad guests are prisoned, and they lean on the empty courtyard to endure the tender cold.
Tonight, Fuzhou is the same as alone, and one round of the month will be watched in two rounds.
If you don't return to support the greenery and sweep away the empty space, you will be embarrassed by the resignation of the branches and leaves.
Muzhi's melancholy turns into cloudy green, and I know that autumn comes and the wood wind falls.
Zhang Liu watched the water with emotion, not like people are used to injustice.
I would like this heart to flow like water, and the falling flowers will be ruthless.
"Comment": Zhang [Ji] Liu [Yuxi]
Keli's joy is not won, just like boiling water pouring a layer of ice.
Even if it is slightly frozen, it will thicken and increase when the wind blows.
Jiangshu Laiyun, a three-year-old girl who learns calligraphy, sees today's Lipeng characters, saying this
Yingwu is like a mother who creates like a Weng, and she can understand the characters of the coming month.
It is known that the Zuo family praises the charming daughters, but Liu's family has ugly children.
Original title: Jiangshu Laiyun, a three-year-old girl who studies books, sees the characters of today's Lipeng, and says that the two moons are close to each other.Happy Reminiscences of Tang Liu Yan and Cheng Yong [Yan Shentong's ugly face]
Open the book and worry about no memory beads, but the king's heart has more than enough coconuts.
To show people how to sit back and relax, and to be the secretary of my next trip.
If you are not drunk, you would rather be forgiven, but if you forget your old age, you will be able to recover.
The gift of poems is ashamed and thick, and I explain it to Xie Gengsheng.
Original title: Zhao Xuesong once forgot and asked the child to save the whole story of a poem. I followed his example and donated it to Yan Mou. You like to read in your tent
Looking back at Xuannan's feet, I sighed, and I swallowed the sand of words from far away.
Each side is facing the new moon, when will they find the old story again.
There should be species of autumn chrysanthemum and spring orchid, but rhododendron and dinghe have no home.
The madness of the year is kept in mind, gradually losing talent and benefiting temples.
Behind closed doors, you can be a sergeant, but when you find a sentence, you are suddenly middle-aged.
It is a rare sticky day, and the pen can mend the sky.
With a hair in the heart, a spring of ten thousand springs springs up.
The family method is in the East Lake, and the Xijiang River is with stabbing boats.
If no one gives half an arm, Zi Peking Opera is admirable.
Then he was in the common people's style, and his shoulders were like vinegar.
There are not many sighs in spring, but the old form is full of surprises.
Knowing that the wind has a taste, the sweetness and pungentness are incomparable.
Partially like eating plum acid, the teeth are soft like beetles.
The anger makes the scholar cold, and the love is jealous with the girl.
Drinking the wind is good enough, three liters of vinegar instead.
Why do I chant poems shoulder, urn 醯 into the occasional mistake.
No more begging for neighbors, I hope the wind can catch.
Yunhe forgets Jue Suffering, and Haixie harmonized this Fu.
"Note": above 1940