What is the next line of Counting hectares of wildflower fragrance: The pilgrims should be envious when they hear it. Name of poem: Twelve Songs of Spring. Real name: Yao He. Font Size: Da Neng. Period: Tang Dynasty. Ethnic group: Han Chinese. Place of birth: Shanzhou. Time of birth: about 779. Died: about 855. Major Works: "Sending a Friend," "Sending a Host and Guest, Liu Langzhong," "Sending a Friend Who Won't Return from a Journey to the South," "Sending Jia Dao," "Sending Inscriptions on Jiang Pavilion in Caizhou and Envoy Tian in Jian," and other poems. Main Achievements: Representative of the Bitter Poetry School, known as "Yao Jia" together with Jia Dao. Ancestry: Wu Xing.
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I. The Full Text of Twelve Songs of Touring SpringClick here to view the details of Twelve Songs of Touring Spring
After the first day of the first lunar month, the search for spring is even more sleepless.
Self-aware of the fact that I am still close to the secluded area, and that all the people say that I am too upside down.
It's a good idea to look at the water and follow the road, and to climb the mountain to reach the sky.
It's a good thing you're here, because it's a good thing you're here, because it's a good thing you're here.
The government is not very good at what it does, and there is no city in the remote area of the county.
Before dawn, the cold rises, and in the spring you can't help being sick.
The winds of the trees are soft, and the soil of the vegetables is light.
The magpies in the forest are happy today.
Poetry and wine are the same as each other, and the thoughts of the day are endless.
The moss traces are in the snowy water, and the spring colors are in the bamboo smoke.
It's a good idea to welcome the rain and the wind, and to destroy the flowers.
Books are not a matter of fame and fortune, and few people love them.
The main sealer in the dust, who sent a high feeling.
Sitting in front of the warm eaves and walking under the fragrant trees.
The soil is melting and the color of the villa is melting, the ice is failing and the sound of the pool is filling up.
It's not easy to sleep in the morning.
There is nothing different about it, but it's just a matter of adding years to the year.
The old calendar is hidden in a deep box, and the new clothes are thin and flimsy.
The warm wind is filled with the color of wine, and the sunny day is filled with the strings of the piano.
This is the first time I have traveled in the spring, and it is the first time I have traveled in the spring.
It's not enough to see the spring, it's not enough to feel tired.
The flowers in the temple are pure, and the water in the mountains is high.
The young clouds are as light as fluff, and the new grass is as fine as hair.
And the poet's thoughts, but also the pen and brush.
This is the first time I've ever seen a county clerk in the country, and I'm sorry to say that I'm not sure if it's a good idea.
Faraway thoughts are annoyed by the poem, and idle feelings are pulled by the wine.
Love the flowers and drink under the forest, love the grass and sleep in the field.
This is the first time I've ever seen a woman in the world who is not a good person, and I don't know if I've ever been a good person.
Springtime is everywhere, and visitors are not rare.
To the sun, I pour cold wine, and to the shadows, I try on new clothes.
The young trees are growing, and the birds are talking and flying.
All the people who came with me went away, but I was alone in the night.
The colors of spring are so beautiful that I feel sorry for them.
When I wake up from the wine, the warbler cries, and the butterfly dances before the poem is written.
Picked flowers in my hands, and folded bamboos to fill the garden with smoke.
There are many friends and relatives who laugh at me, and I feel like a teenager.
It is not a bad thing to be a lowly official, and you can get away with it.
There are flowers on the road in the sunshine, and there are bridges over the water in the spring.
The warm colors of the dust, the new seedlings of the herbs.
Watch the smoke and light scatter, and the winds blow everywhere.
Being led by the light of spring, I will never return.
Chewing on the flowers fills my mouth, and writing on the bamboo sticks to my clothes.
The warbler speaks wildly in the sun, and the butterfly flies backwards in the wind.
It's a shame that I'm so lazy, but I'm not sure if I'll be able to do anything about it.
This is the first time I've ever seen a woman in the world who has been in love with a woman, and I've never seen her in the world.
A bottle of spring wine, a few hectares of wild flowers.
It is the envy of visitors, and of monks.
If I don't remove my servant, I'm afraid I'll ruin the scenery.
Other poems of Yao He
Two Poems of the Poor Side, New Residence on the Plain (a poem of Wang Jian), A Walk in the Wilderness of Zhuangju, Snow, and Sending the Host and Guest, Liu Wenwai.
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