Go through the gate again and you'll be fine. Like what? What is the difference? Wutong was half dead. After first frost, Bai Yuanyang lost her partner.
The grass is on the ground and exposed at the beginning. Old habitat and new growth. Lying in an empty bed listening to the rain from the south window, who will mend the clothes at night?
When I come to Suzhou again, I feel that nothing is right. Why can't my wife who came with me come with me? I seem to be a plane tree beaten by frost, half dead; Like a naked mandarin duck without a companion, lonely and tired.
Dewdrops on the green grass have just dried on the Yuan Ye. I wander in the bedroom where I used to live together, and I wander in the new grave on the ridge. Lying in an empty bed, listening to the biting wind and rain outside the window added a lot of sadness. Who will burn the midnight oil to mend my clothes in the future!
2. Two Poems by Shen Yuan Lu You in Song Dynasty
On the city, the setting sun draws a corner to mourn, and the Shen Garden is not a revival pool platform. Under the sad bridge, the spring waves are green, which used to be a stunning photo.
The dream is broken and fragrant for forty years, but the willow in Shenyuan doesn't blow cotton. This body is a land of mountains and mountains, or a trace of death.
The horn on the wall seems to be wailing, and Shenyuan is no longer the original pavilion. Under that sad bridge, the spring water is still green. I have seen her beautiful silhouette here.
She has been dead for more than forty years, and I never dream of seeing her. The willow in Shenyuan is as old as me. Even Liu Mian is gone. I'm seventy years old and dying. I still came here to mourn, and tears fell.
3. butterfly lovers's Bitterness and the Most Compassionate Month —— Nalan Xingde in Qing Dynasty.
Hard work is the most regrettable thing about the bright moon. The past is like a ring, and it has become a sigh. If the moon finally comes out, I will not hesitate to be roasted by snow and ice.
Without that dust, the swallow is still there, said the soft curtain hook. After singing the autumn grave, I didn't rest, and the spring bush recognized the amphibious butterfly.
The most difficult and lovely thing is the bright moon in the sky. Only one night in January is a full moon like Yuhuan, and the rest of the time is like a broken jade Jue. If I can be as bright as the moon wheel all my life, I will give up the coolness like ice and snow to give you heat.
Unfortunately, the fate of human dust is easy to end, and the swallow is still standing on the curtain hook lightly. In autumn, I sang a song in front of your grave, but my sadness didn't decrease at all. How I wish I could play with you on the grass like a butterfly in spring.
4. Jiang Chengzi Mao Yi's Dream on the 20th day of the first month-Su Shi in Song Dynasty.
Ten years of life and death are two boundless. Don't think about it. Unforgettable A lonely grave thousands of miles away, desolate and nowhere to talk about. Even if we don't know each other, our faces are dusty and our temples are frosty.
When night came, my dream suddenly came home. The window of Xiao Xuan. Dress up. Care for each other without words, only tears thousands of lines are expected to break the heart, and the moon and night are short and loose.
It's been ten years since I said goodbye to you, and we can't help thinking about it. But it's hard to see each other after all. Lonely graves thousands of miles away, there is nowhere to tell the sadness in my heart. Even if the husband and wife met, you wouldn't recognize me. I am covered in dust and my temples are like frost.
Last night, I returned to my hometown in my dream, at the window of the cabin. I'm dressing up. You and I are silent and sad, only tears fall thousands of lines. The place where I expected to miss her in the past was on the bright moon night, on the short Songshan Mountain.
5. Inscription of Nanxiangzi as a Dead Woman _ Nalan Xingde in Qing Dynasty
Tears are silent tears, but they just regret the past and don't cherish your affection. If you want to come back to your party with your photos, your tears won't break your heart. You can't draw your face.
The parting words are still clear in my ears, and fly with me's dream was awakened in the middle of the night for no reason. You woke up early, I was still dreaming, crying as deep as the wind, and the sound of the wind continued until dawn.
Tears flowed twice, but I shed tears silently, only regretting that I didn't cherish your efforts before. I want to be with you again with Dan Qing. My eyes are blurred and my heart is broken, so I can't draw your face.
The parting words are still clear in my ears, and Qi Fei's good dream was awakened in the middle of the night for no reason. You have been awake for a long time, but I am still dreaming, crying deeply and painfully, and the wind chimes will be until dawn.
6. "Magnolia is slow and birds talk endlessly"-Dai Fugu in Song Dynasty
Let the warbler beep endlessly, let the swallow tell it arbitrarily, and it's not clear. This is a lonely and sad point, which has never stopped for ten years, and this sadness has disturbed the spring breeze. Come back to see old friends, but still, Liu Loudong. But the willow building in the east is as old as ever.
I remember you and I were on the poem wall together, and now there are broken poems on the wall without a trace. The grassy swamp, the newly rising green and clear, the withered safflower with bitter hatred. Looking at the old spring shirt, I clearly remember that when I saw you off this year, you were cutting the night under the lamp. What torments me is the endless yearning for suffering, calculating, the past is like a cloud, and everything in front of me is always empty. Chutian is boundless at dusk, and you can only see the distant scene by staggering.
Let the orioles cry endlessly, let the whispering swallows tell at will, and they can't tell clearly. This loneliness and sadness have been lingering in my heart for ten years, and this sadness has disturbed the spring breeze. Start all over again, but the wife will never see it again. But the willows in the east of the small building are still there. I used to remember you and I writing poems on the powder wall, but now that broken wall has disappeared without a trace.
The swamp covered with bluegrass is new green, dissolved, and the withered safflower churns with resentment. Looking at the shabby spring shirt, I clearly remember that it was cut under the lamp all night when I sent it away. What torments me is the endless pain of missing. Counting, the past is like a cloud, and everything is gone. Looking up at Chutian at dusk, I can only rely on withering to watch Hong Fei in the distance.