Poems about morning and dusk 1. Ancient poems describing morning, noon, dusk and night
Morning:
Sunrise on Jinshan Mountain
Lu You
The boat floated on Jade Mountain, and I got a strange view 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 at the towers, and the blue color floats on the clouds.
The poet is in a quandary, but the moon is cold.
When I look at Luofu, I see that the night is 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 on the warmth of the bed.
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 burning.
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 is also like the Queen Mother, who is far away from the five cloud car.
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 you can see the palace near and far.
The first time the sun shines on the mountain, it is the first time I see the palace from afar.
The freshness of the evening green, good air full of clear sky.
The forest is moist, the hot springs enter, the building is deep, and the road passes through.
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 in the same position?
Noon:
Compassionate Farmer
Li Shen
The day of hoeing is noon,
and sweat drips down to the earth.
Who knows what's 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.
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 Qiang flute is played in the moonlight on the mountains.
One of the Two Gifts
Upstairs, the dusk desires to rest, and the moon is like a hook across the jade stairs.
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 of the small plum
All the fragrance shakes down the only noisy Yan, occupying all the flavor to the small garden.
The shadow of the water is clear and shallow, and the fragrance of the moon is floating in the twilight.
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.
Fortunately, there are a few songs that you can be intimate with, and you don't need a sandalwood board to **** a golden bottle.
The book of divination
The broken bridge outside the stage, lonely and open without a master.
It's already dusk and I'm alone with my worries.
I have no intention of fighting for spring, but I am jealous of all the flowers.
The first time I saw this is when I was a little girl, and I was a little girl, and I was a little girl.
Butterfly Loves Flower
The poplar outside the building is ten million strands,
and I want to tie up my youth, but I don't want to live in the spring.
The willow flakes are still floating in front of the wind,
and they will return with the spring.
The green mountains and rivers are filled with the smell of the Duyu,
and then they are made to be unfeeling, but they are also sad and bitter.
The first time I saw you, I was in the middle of the night, and I was in the middle of the night, and I was in the middle of the night.
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 it's 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, but I was so happy to see you, I was so happy to see you.
Night:
Jiande River
The boat is moored in the smoky islet.
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 few trees red out of the light yellow.
The first time I went to a high building, it was clear to my bones, but it was not like the color of spring that incited people to go crazy.
2. Please find a poem describing the sunset in the morning
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 there is always a day when they fade away
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.
The copper stove adds fragrance to the morning, and the screen cage extinguishes the remaining candles.
My head is awake and the wind is slightly healed, my eyes are full and my sleep is full.
The first thing I did was to sit up and knock on my teeth.
What can I do to relieve myself of the burden of sleep?
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 lonely tops of the mountains are towering at the first sight, and the clouds are continuing.
People appreciate the remoteness of the land, and birds love the forest. The world's most beautiful city is a place where you can enjoy the beauty of the world and the beauty of the world.
The sky is full of thanksgiving, and the road is full of fatigue.
I am not sure if you want to be a part of the world, but I would like to be a part of the world.
If you have a good time, you can't afford to go to the South Mountain.
Morning Rain
Era: Tang Dynasty Author: Du Fu
A little rain in the morning light is heard on the leaves for the first time. The fog is only sprinkled on the ground, and the wind is swirling with the clouds.
The color of the wood and thorns is temporarily raised, and the birds and animals are lightly stained. The color of the wood and the thorns of the trees is not yet clear, but the birds and the animals are in the air.
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 bamboo.
The old man rises to burn incense, and the boy walks to draw wells.
I have been living in a body of water and clouds, and I have never fallen into the realm of carriages 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 opened. 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 mountain. The name of the mountain is Parrot, and the name of the mountain is Thyssenkrupp.
A leisurely walk in the spring morning
Era: Tang Dynasty Author: Yang Shidao
In the morning, I walk in the north forest. In the morning, I walk in the north forest. The pond is covered with grasses, and the dahurica is on my dickey.
In the mist, the dawn is divided, 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 sweet seed that scatters the horses' hooves in the morning.
The garden is full of stone trees, and the boat crosses into the river.
The beauty of fall is becoming clear.
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 dusk, and I have learned some amazing lines from my poems. The wind is blowing for 90,000 miles. The wind will not stop, and the boat will be blown to the three mountains! [1]
3. Poetry describing the dusk
1, such as dreaming - 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's going on in my heart. The old hatred and the new love are half and half. I'm not going to 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, 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 was when I was a kid, and it was the first time I'd ever seen a kid in the world.
Translation
At dusk, I heard the sound of horns coming from the top of the city again, and I barely sat up in my illness, not in a good mood. The medicine had just been boiled, the lamp and candle were glowing green, and the incense that was about to be burned out was emitting half a wisp of green smoke, which evoked infinite sadness.
Since ancient times, people who have a lot of 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 put my thoughts of you in the sick tell 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.
The 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 the night, and I was in the middle of the night, and I was in the middle of the night. I'm not sure if you're going to be able to get it right, but I'm sure you'll be able to get it right. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands dirty.
The first thing you need to do is to get drunk. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands on some of the most popular products in the world. The first thing you need to do is to take a look at the flowers in your hand and look at the east to remember Tao Qian. 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 the same as the eaves of the house. The river is broad and the sky is low, the diffuse white snow to the riverside taverns of the wine flag are covered, sitting alone in the cold and chanting poetry, who is accompanied? Wipe your dim eyes and stroke your aging beard.
You may be feasting on a feast, this snow as transparent as crystal salt, for whom is this delicacy offered? I hold the plum blossom in my hand, looking east, thinking of Tao Qian. Snow like the old man, the old man like the snow, although lovely, but also afraid of "someone smack".
4, butterfly in love with flowers - courtyard deep deep how much
Song Dynasty: Ouyang Xiu
Courtyard deep deep how much, willow pile of smoke, curtains no heavy number. The first time I saw this was when I was a student at the University of California, Berkeley, and the second time I was a student at the University of California, Berkeley.
The rain and wind are crazy March twilight, the door covers the dusk, no plan to stay in the spring to live. The first thing you need to do is to ask the flowers, and they will not say a word, 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 dusk scenery cover 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 as bright as day.
Last year, on New Year's Eve, the lanterns in the flower market were as bright as day.
This year, on New Year's Eve, the moon and lights are still the same.
I don't see anyone from last year, and my sleeves are wet with tears. （
The translation
At the Lantern Festival on the 15th day of the first month of last year, the lights in the flower market were as bright as in the daytime.
The moon rose above the willow trees, and he asked me to talk to him after dusk.
This year, the moonlight and the lights of the Lantern Festival are the same as last year.
I can't see the old man from last year anymore, so I can't help but feel that I'm soaking my clothes.
4. Sentences describing the morning, noon, evening and night
Early 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-capped 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 bag full of confiscated currants. There was silence in all directions
. There was not even a figure in the ...... square. The 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 call, 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 the air seemed to be stagnant / in the middle of the day, when the sun was blazing, and the wild grasses were sleeping in the heat, and no one dared to walk under the sun / in the midst of this summer's noon, the mirrored water reflected the strong 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 there are only millions of cicadas chirping noisily among the branches of the trees.
"Spring Flowers"
The sunlight of the midday sun shines 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 sunlight, 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, and the setting sun is finally resistant to time, falling 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 flies, flowers fall and bloom, youth no longer come!
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 scarcity of a corner, is now crowded like a stream. I was afraid of the crowd, so I turned and ran to the quiet road, go home.
At this time, 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 is a soft willow; here there is a faint smell of grass, here there is a strong night fragrance, in the evening wind floating with a charming aroma ......
5. Poems describing dusk
1, [Tang] Rong Yu "Farewell to do"
Selected excerpts from the original text:
The apricot branch in the hand, not ever parted.
The apricot blossom branch is in my hand.
After covering the door at dusk, the loneliness is known to my heart.
Interpretation:
Holding a branch of apricot blossoms in his hand, he has not experienced parting. After the door is closed 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 in the dusk.
Interpretation:
The mountain golems speak at nightfall, and the petrels return to their nests at dusk.
3. [Qing] Cao Xueqin's "Burying the Flowers"
Selection from the original text:
The cuckoo was silent at dusk, and the hoe returned to cover the heavy door.
Interpretation:
The cuckoo is silent as it weeps all its tears of blood, 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"
The original passage:
It is already dusk and sadness alone, and even more 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"
Selection 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.
6. To the morning and dusk as the theme, write a poem
morning: 1 whether it will be written down in the morning under the first ray of sunlight gently touching the sun's tenderness lazily stepping on the green grass, the lingering freshness of the morning wind is the life of all things given by nature, the warmth of the smile blossomed in the dewdrops to stay in the shadow of the streets and alleys of the people in the morning light of the haste to look for a few of that hiding in the heart of the hope that the family, life, perhaps, we want to see, and the people in the street. Perhaps we never look up, but the blue sky behind the clouds is the thread of our thoughts in the morning, condensing them into a dream that gives us a faint warmth. 2 The Morning of Thinking of You The dreams you took away at night are still wandering on the Broken Bridge, and the call from under the bridge wakes up the sleeping windows. The morning light bathes the pale loneliness, and the thin mist combs the misty eyes. The morning and the early morning are pushed out onto the street together, and betrayed to the escaping sleep, and your footsteps have bribed the alarm clock. In the blossoming of the morning sun, the stagnant river of drunken thoughts, the wounds of the night, washed white by the morning of your weeping, the quietness of your morning, the air of your scent lingering in the window, the road outside the window, you holding the faraway land, leisurely walking, the morning of thinking of you, is it not that the darkness has lost its way, that the murmuring of the birds awakens the warm, intoxicating dream of the pre-dawn hours, and that the happy scenes of the dream, have given rise to the misty and gentle poem, that is, the quiet and serenity of the early morning of the summer sun. The rising sunlight beats on my heart and the clear wind, with its white clouds, gently falls in front of your window, and as I look at your sleeping form, I happily reach out with your fingers, and gently brush away your tiredness, and give you a sweet kiss to dispel all your fatigue. I play the song, "The Taste of Summer", and let my thoughts fly. Though the lyrics are a bit outdated, the melody is very beautiful, and my pure love jumps on the strings of the piano, from high to low. The time of youth has passed slowly through the door of my heart, and 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 hit every detail of our relationship, until after many years, I believe that my figure will still be fresh and clean, and I can sing along with the beautiful melody. Tapping the keyboard, a few lines of poetry appeared on the blue screen that no one understands Thoughts drifted along with the words Carefully wrote the happiness you gave me in the lines Repeatedly weighing the rhyme at the end Tears with my heart Furnished this murmur of love ...... Dusk: 1 Sounding the seagull's flute 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 the 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 love song of the past, 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 pulse of the clouds, and the hidden wriggling is the thoughts of the moon.2 Just like the wind over the grassland, it melts away the desolation, and the slightly drunken dusk squeezes into the half-open window, and the amber-colored tears of the candles quietly flow, and the evening breeze chants music, and the white chrysanthemums in front of the window are silently opening, and in the brightly lit dreams, I'm hiding the joys, and the sorrows, and the distant mountains look on before the sun goes down, and the intoxication of the happiness at my feet, and the night twilight quietly approaching the soil. Inclusive adoration is generous, and the light of the sunset begins to brighten and fade, and life encounters a beautiful pause, and the residual warmth flattens the riverbed, and the water and the fire bridge the gap, and the buttocks sit on top of the earth, and the eyes fan away the fluttering sunlight on their bleak wings, and penetrate the indistinct clouds, and change the depths of the objects, and the idle thought stabilizes the bridge of the nose, and rises to the earth, and flies freely, and leaves behind the sentimental bustle of the dusty world, and the girl is painted by dusk, and covered in a crimson dowry3, and the distant mountains are painted with a greenish color, and the shadows on the eyes, and the streams beat 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 curtain of clouds, and the old farmers calmly swallow the light of the pipe, and their mouths make a colorful racket, with a hoe on their shoulders and a bright moon hanging over them, and a shivering sunset, which is not a good idea, and the old woman, with her pots and pans, clanking 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. 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. Hurried twilight is pale, dusk crawls like a squid, dressed in the sun's golden clothes, and I feel like I'm stumbling down the hill, too late to return to the light, so I might as well sit there and be stupid for a while.