Morning:
Sunrise on Jinshan Mountain
Lu You
Floating a boat to the Jade Mountain, a marvelous sight in the morning.
The sun is breaking through the water, and the river is wide.
The distant waves are knitting the red scales, and the emerald mist is opening the golden disk.
The sunlight shoots the tower, and the blue color floats on the clouds.
The poet is in a quandary, but the autumn moon is cold.
When I was looking at Luofu, the night was not yet over.
The first day
Wang Changling
The first day of the net gold boudoir, the first shine in front of the bed warm.
The first day of the year is the first day of the year when the sun shines in the golden chamber, and the bed is warm.
The hair of the clouds cannot be combed, and the poplar flowers are blown all over the place.
The first sun shines on the phoenix tower
Li Yuzhong
The rising sun and smoke clouds the hall, the sunrise candles the emperor's residence.
The sun is rising, the sun is rising, and the Emperor's house is in the ascendant.
The colors are flowing even on the vermilion threshold, and the light is shining on the beautiful and sparse.
TEEEL is in the morning, and the dawn light is in the early hours of the day.
The house is close to the mountains, the pillars and the wings of the phoenix.
It's like the Queen Mother's visit to the city, and it's a long way off.
The first day of the sun shines on the palace of Huaqing
Chaijiu
The first day of the sun shines on the mountain of the Spirit, and the palace of the Spirit is near and far.
The first time the sun shines on the mountain, it is in the middle of the sky, and it is in the middle of the sky.
The freshness of the evening green, good air full of clear sky.
The forest is moist, the hot springs enter, and the building is deep.
The moon is in the center of the sky, and the moon is in the center of the sky, and the moon is in the center of the sky.
When will the phoenix carriage be fortunate enough to be with us?
Noon:
Compassionate Farmer
Li Shen
The hoeing day is noon,
Sweat drops under the soil.
Who knows what is on the plate,
Every grain is bitter.
The first thing you need to do is to get your hands on a new one.
The first thing you need to do is to get your hands on a new one.
The lonely empty court wants to be late in the spring, pear blossom full of not open the door.
From the army line
Beacon city west of the hundred feet building, sitting alone at dusk sea breeze fall.
The Qiang flute is played in the moonlight on the mountains.
One of the Two Gifts
Upstairs in the twilight desire to rest, the jade ladder across the moon like a hook.
The banana does not show the lilac knot, the same to the spring breeze, respectively sad.
Leyouyuan
In the evening, I was not feeling well, and I drove up to the ancient plains;
The setting sun is infinitely good, but it is only near dusk.
The mountain garden small plum
All the fragrance shaking down the only noise Yan, occupying all the flavor to the small garden.
Sparse shadows across the shallow water, dark fragrance floating moon dusk.
The first thing you need to do is to look at the bird of prey, and the butterflies will be able to break their souls.
Luckily, there are a few songs that you can be intimate with, and you don't need a sandalwood board to **** a golden bottle.
卜算子
Outside the stage by the Broken Bridge, the loneliness of the open no master.
It's already dusk and I'm alone with my worries, and it's even more windy and rainy.
I have no intention to fight for spring, but I am jealous of all the flowers.
The first time I saw this, I was in the middle of a long journey, and I was in the middle of a long journey.
Butterfly Loves Flowers
Outside the building of the poplar ten million strands,
want to tie the youth, less to live in the spring still go.
The willow flakes are floating in front of the wind,
and the spring will be on its way back to wherever it goes.
The mountains and rivers are full of green, and they are full of trees.
It's just a matter of being ruthless, and it's not a matter of being sad.
I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do this, but I'm going to be able to do it, and I'm going to be able to do it, and I'm going to be able to do it.
The night of the New Year's Eve
Last year, on New Year's Eve, the lights in the flower market were as bright as day. The moon is over the willow, and people are about to meet after dusk.
This year's New Year's Eve, the moon and lights are still the same. The first time I saw you, I was so happy to see you.
Night:
Jiande River
Moving the boat to the smoky islet, the sun goes down, the guest is sad.
Wild open sky low trees, river clear moon near people
Autumn Thoughts
Liu Yuxi
The mountains are clear and the water is clear at night, frost, a number of trees red out of the light yellow.
The first time I went up to a tall building, it was clear to my bones, but it was not like the color of spring that incited people to go crazy.
2. A poem describing the morning sunset
"Deng Leyouyuan"
Author: Tang Li Shangyin
In the evening, I was not feeling well, and I drove up to the ancient plains.
The setting sun is infinitely beautiful, but it is nearly dusk.
Commentary
The last two lines of this poem are philosophical, showing that things are good, but they will wither away one day
Morning Glory
Era: Tang Dynasty, Author: Bai Juyi
The birds are moving in front of the forest, and the light is coming up to the east room in the morning.
The copper stove adds fragrance to the morning, and the screen cage extinguishes the candle.
The head is awake, the wind is slightly healed, and the eyes are full of sleep.
The head is awake, the wind has healed, the eyes are full, and the sleep has come to an end.
What can I do to relieve myself of this burden?
The morning sits in the fasting room and occasionally writes a poem
Era: Tang Dynasty Author: Zhang Jiuling
The cold dew cleanses the autumn sky, and the distant mountains are all over the place. The top of the mountain is in a state of shock, and the clouds are in succession.
People appreciate the remoteness of the land, and birds love the forest. The world's most beautiful city is a place where the world's most beautiful people live and work.
The sky is full of thanksgiving, and the road is full of fatigue.
This is the first time I've ever seen a movie, and I've never seen it again.
If you have a good sense of leisure, you will not be able to live up to the song of the South Mountain.
Morning Rain
Era: Tang Dynasty Author: Du Fu
In the morning light, a light rain is heard on the leaves. The fog is misting the ground, and the wind is swirling with the clouds.
The color of the wood and thorns is temporarily raised, and the birds and beasts are lightly stained. The color of the wood and the thorns of the trees is not yet the same as that of the birds and the animals.
Rising in the Morning
Era: Song Dynasty Author: Lu You
The first day breaks through the smoke and the shadow of the scattered pines and bamboos.
The old man rises to burn incense, and the boy walks to draw wells.
I was born in a body of water and clouds, and I never fell into the realm of cars and horses.
I would like to be like Pangong, my whole family would be like you.
Dawn on the Hanyang Ferry
Era: Tang Dynasty Author: Wang Zhenbai
The moon is falling on the ancient ferry, and the city of Wuchang is not yet open. The lamps are still lit up in the city, and the colors of the dawn are clear.
The clouds go from Cangwu, the water comes from a mountain. The name of the mountain is Parrot.
A leisurely walk in spring
Era: Tang Dynasty Author: Yang Shidao
The morning walk is in the north forest, and the rest of the day is spent in idleness. In the morning, I walk in the north forest. The pond is covered with fragrant grasses, and the dahuric dahurries are on my dickey.
In the mist, the dawn is parted, and in the flowers, the spring birds are playing. The paths are full of fragrance, and the mountain steps are invaded by bamboo shoots.
The peach and the plum are the shade of the sky.
White Dew
Era: Tang Dynasty Author: Du Fu
White Dew is a mass of sweet seeds, scattering horses' hooves in the morning.
The garden is full of stone trees, and the boat crosses into the river.
The fish are happy to watch from a few seats, and the birds are eager to roost when they return to their whips.
The beauty of fall is becoming clear, but the paths are not always easy to navigate.
The Fisherman's Pride
The sky is full of clouds and mist, and the river of stars is full of sails. It's as if I'm dreaming of going back to the emperor's place. I heard the voice of the sky asking me where I was going. I report that the road is long and the sun is drowning, and I have learned some amazing lines from my poems. The wind is blowing for 90,000 miles. The winds are still blowing, and the boat is blowing the three mountains away! [1]
3. Poems describing dusk1. Rumengling - Slender Moon Dusk Courtyard
Qing Dynasty: Nalan Seide
Slender Moon Dusk Courtyard, the language of the dense turn to teach drunkenness shallow. I'm not sure if I know what I'm talking about, but I'm sure I know what I'm talking about. The old hatred and the new love are half and half. I'm not sure if I'll be able to do that. I'm not sure if I've seen it before, but I've seen it before. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do that, but I think I'm going to be able to do it.
Translation
In the courtyard at dusk, with the moon in the sky, the two of them were in love with each other, and their drunkenness gradually subsided. Now, the lovers have long come to meet each other, I do not know that the hearts of the people, is it true love? Or is it fake? Old hatred and new love, old feelings and new grudges, intertwined together, indefinable, still messy. Who can see my sad thoughts, sleepless nights, red tears on the face, soaked coral pillow.
2, Yu Meiren - dusk and listen to the corner of the city
Qing Dynasty: Nalan Seide
Dusk and listen to the corner of the city, sick mood. The first time the medicine stove boiled short cheese green, without that residual fragrance half a wisp of annoyance sentimental.
Sentimentality since ancient times has been sick, clear mirror pity clear shadow. The first time I saw this is when I was a little girl, and it was a long time ago that I was a little girl.
Translation
At dusk, I heard the sound of horns coming from the top of the city again, and I barely managed to sit up when I was sick, and I was not in a good mood. The medicine had just been boiled, the lamp and candle were emitting a greenish flame, and the incense that was about to be burned out was emitting half a wisp of green smoke, which aroused infinite sadness.
Since ancient times, people who are in love are always sick, I look in the mirror, sighing at my own haggard face. Read a sentence of your "finger-snapping words", tears suddenly slipped down, please east wind do not tell my thoughts of you in the sick with you know.
3, Jiang Shenzi - dusk is still rain slender
Song Dynasty: Su Shi
Gong old preface cloud: snow have wistful Zhu Kangshu envoy, but also know that the envoy's memory of me, also, made "Jiang Shenzi" to send.
Dusk is still rain. The curtains are open in the morning, wanting to flatten the eaves. The first time I saw this, I was in the middle of a long journey, and it was a long time coming. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do that, but I'm going to be able to do it," he said. The first thing you need to do is to take a look at your eyes and twirl your beard.
The first thing you need to do is to get drunk. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands dirty. The first thing you need to do is to take a look at the other side of the room, and then look at the other side of the room. The snow is like the old man, the man is like the snow, although it is lovely, some people dislike it.
Translation
Yesterday at dusk, the sky is still drizzling, the next morning, I woke up and opened the curtains, but found that the snow is almost almost and the eaves of the house. The river is wide and the sky is low, the roiling snow covers the wine flag of the riverside tavern, sitting alone in the cold and chanting poetry, who is there to accompany? Wipe your dim eyes and stroke your aging beard.
You may be feasting on a feast, for whom is this snow, as transparent as crystal salt, a delicacy? I hold the plum blossom in my hand, looking east, thinking of Tao Qian. Snow like the old man, the old man like snow, although lovely, but also afraid of "someone smack".
4, Butterfly Lovers - Courtyard deep deep
Song Dynasty: Ouyang Xiu
Courtyard deep deep deep deep, willow pile of smoke, curtains without counting. The first time I saw this, I was in the middle of a long journey, and I was in the middle of a long journey.
Rain across the wind crazy March twilight, the door covers the dusk, no plan to stay in the spring to live. The first thing I want to do is to ask the flowers, and they will not say anything, but they will fly through the autumn.
Translation
The courtyard is deep, I do not know how deep? The willows are still clinging to each other, billowing up pieces of smoke, and the heavy curtains have an unknown number of layers. Luxurious carriages and horses are parked in the place where noble gentlemen seek pleasure, she climbed the stairs and looked into the distance, but she could not see the big road leading to the Zhangtai.
Spring has reached the twilight, March rain accompanied by gusty winds, and then the heavy door will be the dusk scenery covered and closed, but also unable to retain the spring. Tearful eyes asked the falling flowers can know my heart, the falling flowers silent, messy, sporadic little by little to fly to the swing outside.
5. Sheng Chazi - New Year's Eve
Song Dynasty: Ouyang Xiu
Last year's New Year's Eve, the lights in the flower market were like daytime.
The moon is on the top of the willow, after dusk.
This year, on New Year's Eve, the moon and the lights are still the same.
I don't see anyone from last year, and my sleeves are wet with tears.
The moon rose above the willow trees, and he asked me to talk to him after dusk.
The moonlight and the lights of the Lantern Festival on the 15th day of the first month of this year are the same as those of last year.
I can't see the old man from last year anymore, so I can't help but wet my clothes.
4. Sentences describing the morning, noon, evening and nightEarly morning
Early in the morning, all the music is silent, the sky is bright, the night is trying to hide, the morning light of the break of dawn slowly awakened sleeping beings. The air is cold, paddling a flat boat, slowly crossing the sea of memory, forgetting the time, but remembering the past The morning is refreshing and quiet, the clouds are light and windy. The gray-blue dome from the top of the head, gradually fade down, fade down, into the sky and the horizon bordering the light smoke. The river rises a gentle mist, the mountains are painted a layer of soft milky white, white fog color to render everything hazy and psychedelic.
Early in the morning, the street is quiet. When the first ray of morning light shot through the mist, the small street will usher in a warm morning, at this time, the small street of everything is covered in the soft morning light, the roadside willow low hanging head, smooth acceptance of the morning shower; upright poplar tree like a robust young man stretching his arms; grass from the wet through a few points of the green of the ghost. What a beautiful summer morning. Just after winter, the weather is cold. The yellow leaves of the trees along with the rustling cold wind, have thrown themselves into the embrace of Mother Earth. The distant mountains are much thinner, near the grass withered, tree branches as if naked puppets, mechanically twisting their bodies, as if in and yesterday farewell. The purpose of the depression, full of yellow, which caused me infinite melancholy.
Noon
Sunny noon, sunny noon, sunny noon, sunny noon, sunny noon
Noon: Sergeant Ochumelov walks across the market square in his new coat, with a small bag in his hand. He is followed by a policeman, with brownish-red hair, carrying a coarse loaf full of confiscated currants. There was silence in all directions
. There was not even a figure in the ...... square. The little stores and hotels stood open, listlessly facing this world of God's creation
like hungry mouths. There was not even a begging bow near the store door.
In the ambrosial noon, the wind did not blow, the birds did not cry, the cattle did not move, and the ravine was dead silent / in the extreme heat of the noon, there was not a single cloud in the sky, there was not a single breeze in the space, and it seemed as if the air had stagnated / in the noon, when the sun was blazing, and the wild grasses were lethargic in the heat, and nobody dared to walk under the sun / in the midst of this summer's noon, when the mirroring water reflected the intense sunlight, and the green willows and poplars along the bank, cast a cool shadow on the river The green willows and poplars along the banks cast cool shadows on the river/ Under the blazing midday sun, people hide inside their houses, and only a million cicadas chirp noisily among the branches of the trees.
"Spring Flowers"
The sunlight of the midday sun shone vertically. The rippling, clear water of the Huangbi River shines with a carp-like luster, and the water vapor drifts with the breeze to the villages along the river. The roofs of the villages, basking in the warmth of the spring sun, emit a dry, burnt odor. The cool, moist moisture tempered the dry, burnt breath, making it comfortable and cozy.
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The Camel's Nest
Evening: a summer evening is warm and beautiful. It is like an elegant young woman; wearing a colorful train with temples pulled back lightly; graceful and luxurious.
The sky is a light blue, sometimes floating clouds, a group like white cotton wool. Breeze blowing their soft body, chanting and singing, all the way leisurely. When you lower your head and look at the roadside, the green grass and flowers murmur, which will be the moment to look up again, that piece of white clouds like cotton, all into a "pony tail" wisps to the sky dispersal ......
The slanting sun is like blood, the sun is full of sky.
My favorite summer evening, the beauty of the intoxicating, the beauty of the brilliant! The flaming clouds shrouded the western sky, like a gorgeous watercolor painting. Initially a piece of goose yellow bottom, a layer of light orange-red; orange-red plus a light blue ribbon; ribbon end full of unfolding, a wide blood-colored silk scarf, gradual and distant has been torn to the sky ...... so that the sunset set off more bright red colorful.
The distant mountains in the twilight, gray as Dai-like magnificence. In the pallor, I saw the two standing on top of the mountain above the poplar and pine. The breeze swaying their branches and leaves, in the evening sunshine, appear more pale, more upright. Heshy branches and leaves through a slanting sunshine, I saw dappled sunshine hanging on the treetops, a little bit of falling. Rush to pick up the digital camera, framed in that moment; snap! Beautiful silhouette - tree: like a man in the sky, into my "shutter" in the ......
The setting sun in the mountain tops heavy and lofty, it makes me mesmerized, so that I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do that!
The color of the night is thick, the setting sun finally can not resist the time to grind, fell in the valley. The top of the mountain swallowed the last touch of afterglow. Looking at the slanting sun I sighed "the sunset is infinitely good, just near dusk". The beautiful slanting sun is so spectacular, but it is a fleeting moment. The day alternates between the sun and the moon. Life? Each person from infancy, youth, strength to old age. Everyone's sunset? Will all be so brilliant? The years rush by, time passes, flowers fall and blossom, youth is no longer coming!
The night is thick. The buds curved moon at some point has quietly hung in the sky. The lights are on, neon flashes. The original pedestrian sparse corner, is now crowded like a stream. I was afraid of the crowd, so I turned around and ran to the quiet road to go home.
At this point, the street is gradually boiling, traffic. The metropolis fell into a night of prosperity. Bypassing the hustle and bustle of people, roaming through a hustle and bustle, I stepped on the path. Here there are soft weeping willows; here there is a faint smell of grass, here there is a strong night fragrance, in the evening wind drifting with a charming aroma ......
5. Poems describing dusk1, [Tang] Rong Yu Farewell to be made
Selected passages from the original text:
The hand of the apricot blossom branch, not once parted.
Behind the door at dusk, the loneliness is known to me.
Interpretation:
Holding a branch of apricot blossoms in my hand, I have not experienced a parting. After closing the door at dusk, only you know your own loneliness.
2. [Tang] Zhang Hu's Title to the South Pavilion of Haiyan
Selections from the original text:
The mandrill speaks in the darkness of the night, and the petrels return at dusk.
Interpretation:
In the darkness of the night the mountain spirits speak, and at dusk the petrels return to their nests.
3. [Qing] Cao Xueqin's "Burying the Flowers"
Selections from the original text:
The cuckoo is silent at dusk, and the hoe returns to cover the heavy door.
Interpretation:
The cuckoo weeps all its blood and tears in silence, and a miserable dusk is falling. I carried the flower hoe and returned with pain, and closed the deep door of my chamber.
4. [Song] Lu You, "Bu San Zi (卜算子) Wing Plum"
Selected passages from the original text:
It is already dusk and sadness alone, and even more so with the wind and rain.
Interpretation:
As twilight falls, the plum blossom is already sad enough without support, but it is also ravaged by wind and rain.
5. [Tang] Yu Guan's Gift to Wang Daoshi
Selections from the original text:
Only after dusk, the sound of chimes was heard in the stream.
Interpretation:
Only after dusk does the sound of striking chimes come from the creek.
Only after dusk did the sound of the chimes come from the side of the creek.
Only after dusk did the sound of the chimes come from the side of the creek.
Only after dusk did the sound of the chimes come from the side of the creek. Maybe we never look up, but the blue sky behind the clouds is a dream of the morning, a dream that gives us a faint warmth. 2 Thinking of you in the morning, the dream you took away at night is still wandering on the Broken Bridge, and the call that flows under the bridge wakes up the sleeping window. The morning light bathes the pale loneliness, and a thin mist combs the misty eyes. The morning and the early morning are pushed out into the street together, and betrayed to the escaping sleep, and the alarm clock is bribed by your steps, and in the blossom of morning sunlight, drunken thoughts stop. In the blooming of the morning sun, the stagnant river of drunken thoughts, the wounds of the night, washed white by the morning of your crying, the morning of thinking of you is as quiet as a wisp, the air of your scent lingers in the window, the road outside the window, you are holding the faraway place, leisurely walking, is it possible that the darkness of the morning has lost its way, the murmuring of the birds, the noisy birds' voices waking up the warm, intoxicating dream of the pre-dawn hours, and the joyful scenes of the dream, which have made up the mist-like, gentle poem, the quiet, peaceful morning of a summer day, the early sunlight beating against the window of my heart, the morning of my life, and the early sunshine. The rising sunlight pummels the window of my heart, and the clear wind, with its white clouds, gently falls in front of your window, looking at your sleeping form, and I happily stretch out the fingers you've been holding, and gently brush away your tiredness, and give you a sweet kiss to dispel all your fatigue, and put on a song called "The Taste of Summer", and let my thoughts fly, even though the lyrics are a bit outdated, but the melody is very beautiful, and my pure white love jumps on the strings of the piano, from high to low, and continues to linger. In the bottom of my heart, the time of my youth has slowly passed through the door of my heart I don't need to sigh for all the love in the world Love without a cause is doomed to be fruitless In fact, after love, the feelings are still strong, and the thoughts will be forever in each other's hearts After the vicissitudes of the world, the hammer of the years will repeatedly hit every detail of the relationship Until after many years, I believe that my figure will still be fresh and new, and I'll be able to tap on the keyboard with a beautiful melody, and some poems that no one understands will appear on the blue screen. A few lines of a poem that no one understands appeared, and thoughts drifted along with the words, carefully writing the happiness you gave me in the lines, weighing the rhyme at the end over and over again, and with my heart and tears, I gave out this murmur of love. ...... Dusk: 1 Sounding the flute of the seagulls, passing through the sharp edges of the dark clouds.
Sucking the milk of the sea, moisturizing the coolness of the edge of the Xia wing. Rowing a boat, holding a cold sail, the paddles splash the wings of dusk, soaring together by ripples.
The sandy beaches leave you deep and shallow footprints, and the golden color smears your cold and warm breath. The horn is playing the old love song, and the other side of the bank is standing in the smoke and rain of the watch.
The distant winds of the gaze, astringent a sleeve coat. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands dirty.
The palm of the lotus leaf has the beating pulse of the clouds, and the hidden wriggling is the thoughts of the moon.2 Like the wind across the grassland, it melts away the desolation, and the slightly drunken dusk squeezes into the half-open window, and the amber tears of the candles flow quietly, and the evening breeze chants music that ripples in the window, where the white chrysanthemums are silently opening up, and in the brightly lit dreams, I'm fading from the joys, fading from the sorrows, and the distant mountains look out at sunset, intoxicated with the happiness that's just below my feet, and nighttime twilight creeps nearer to the soil. Inclusive adoration is generous, the light of the sunset begins to brighten and fade, and life encounters a beautiful pause, the residual warmth smoothes the riverbed, the water and the fire bridge the gap, the buttocks sit on top of the earth, the eye with its cool wings flaps away the fluttering sunlight, penetrates the indistinct clouds, varies the depths of the objects, the idle thoughts stabilize the bridge of the nose, rises up to the ground, flies free and leaves behind the sentimental bustle of the earthly world, the girl is painted by the dusk, she is covered in a reddish dowry, and the distant mountains are painted with a reddish color, and the shadows on the eyes are painted on the green hills, the streams are pounding the waves of water. The stream beats the waves of the water, and the most energetic chests of the men, gilded by the evening sun, darken the broad iron spine, and chase the young and the foolish back and forth, making the stars panic and hide in the mantle of clouds, and the old farmer calmly puffs on the light of his pipe, and his mouth makes a colorful racket, with a hoe over his shoulder and a bright moon hanging over his shoulder, and a shivering sunset, which is not a good idea, and the old woman, with her pots and pans, clinking and clanging in the kitchen, and shuffling and shuffling and shuffling and shuffling and shuffling and shuffling, and the smell of meat, and the wild winds, and the wild winds, and the wild winds, and the wild winds, and the wild winds. The smell of meat, gnawed on by the wild winds, seduces the long necks of the cooking fires, marking the primitive desires of mankind, and the bodies of three or two children are spread out on a summer night's mat, staring at the stars, expressing their future aspirations, and blurred shadows creep over the faces of my relatives, and my parents' crutches pull at their wrinkles, and the twilight accumulates the long hours of life, and I, too, am sitting in the evening, waiting for the erosion of my life, and my heart can be hung in a grapevine, sunning itself on the drying pole, and letting time run away like a stray wild dog, and traveling. The hasty twilight is pale, the dusk crawls like a squid, dressed in the sun's gold, and I feel like I'm stumbling down the hill, too late to return to the light, so I might as well sit and be stupid for a while.