February dawning spring color, peach blossom willow green smile spring breeze. It is appropriate to cypress wine Fangyuan enjoy, who said that the flower residual tree to empty ......

Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter as the title of the ancient poem Li Shangyin scenery Ran East and West Strand, a few days of the soul can not be found. The honey room feather guest class Fangxin, Ye Ye advocate strip all know each other. Warm and amiable glow late peach tree west, high hair stand **** peach hair Qi. The male dragon and the female phoenix are nowhere to be found. The flotsam and jetsam of the sky is also confused. The sun rises in drunkenness if the first dawn, reflecting the curtain dream breaks heard the remnants of the language. I'm worried about the coral netting, the sea is wide and the sky is wide and the place is lost. The sash is mercilessly wide and narrow, and the spring smoke is blue and the fall frost is white. I'm not sure if I'll be able to find a way to get to that place, but I'm sure I'll be able to find a way to get to that place. The first time I saw you was when I was a young girl, and I was so happy to see you. The east wind is so strong today that it has turned into a ghostly light that enters the west sea. --In the front of the pavilion, the rain curtains are not rolled up, and in the back of the pavilion, the trees are in the shade. The scenery of Shicheng is similar to the Yellow Springs, and at midnight the travelers are empty. The silk fan calls the wind to the gate of heaven, and the light curtain of the emerald curtain is in a whirlwind of waves. The soul of Shu is lonely and has no companion. A few nights ago, miasma flowers bloomed in the cottonwood. It is hard to get the light from the Gui Palace, and the Hanyan Orchid breaks down and speaks softly. I have been taught that the silver man falls into my arms, and I have not sent the Star Princess to come and go. The water of the river is clear, and the Yellow River is muddy. The light yellow color of the mist, hand in hand with the clouds to call Taijun. --The moon and the sky are wet, the cool toads have fallen and the stars have entered. The cloud screen does not move to cover the lonely pinion, and the kite rushes in the west tower overnight. I want to weave flowers to send them far away, but I spend all my time thinking of each other but complaining about each other. But I can hear the sound of the Big Dipper, but I can't see the shallow water of the Yangtze River. The goldfish locks up the red laurel spring, and the dust of ancient times is full of mandarin ducks. It's sad that the small garden is a long road, and that the jade tree has no pity for the deceased countrymen. The zither is solemn and solemn, and the grosgrain is cold and heavy. The parrot on the hook of the curtain frightens the frost at night, and awakens a dream of the southern clouds. The two birds are linked together, remembering the place where they met in the Xiangchuan River. It's a pity that the fragrance is still in my hands. --The female phoenix flies alone, and the female dragon is lonely. The white stones of the green stream do not look at each other, and the hall is far away from the Cangwu wild. The frozen wall and the frosty flowers are hidden from each other, and the fragrance of the roots is interrupted. The waves ride on the painted barge to remember the toad, and the moon may not be a beautiful child. The pipes and strings of the Chu barbarians are full of sorrows, and the empty city has stopped dancing and the waist is supported. At that time, the joy was lost in my palm, the peach leaves and roots of the two sisters. The broken hair of a Japanese woman was falling in the cold, and the white jade swallow hairpin was a golden cicada. The wind and rain do not hold the horse to go, the candle crows red and complains of the dawn of the day. --Winter