Zhang Xian

Mix the water several times and listen to the wine. Woke up at noon drunk and worried. When will Chunchun be sent back? Night in front of the mirror. A sad scene. In the latter part of the past, this province was empty. On the beach and on the pond. Clouds break the moon and flowers make a shadow. Heavy curtains cover the lights and the wind is uncertain. At first people were quiet. Tomorrow's sunset should be complete.

Zhang Xian's life, although not promoted to a higher position, did not experience many ups and downs: he became a scholar and an official, and his life was smooth sailing, enjoying wealth and romance. A good friend Su Shi gave a poem: "The poet always comes to Yingying, but his son is busy." There is no shortage of beautiful women around him. It is said that he married an eighteen-year-old concubine when he was eighty. Although there are Yingying Yanyan around, it is the heart that is lonely. It's hard to get rid of leisure worries when spring comes, but it's hard to make up when wine comes. After the joy, I feel lonely and bone-eroded. There will always be a pure green color that can replace the color of flowers. The meeting between those people and Taohua was sealed in memory. If the flowers bloom is a kind of warm happiness, then the flowers fall should be a kind of melancholy touch. Reading Zhang Xian's words, I seem to smell the fragrance of old wine in his pot. This is the wine he brewed in Luo Ying. After drinking one glass, he kept it for the whole spring.

Tang duoling

Liu Guo

Reed leaves are full of Tingzhou. Shallow water flow in sand plug area. Twenty years, heavy south tower. Liu Xia's boat is still unstable, and it will last for a few days, Mid-Autumn Festival. The yellow crane broke the stone head. My old friend is not here today. Old country, muddy is a new worry. If you want to buy osmanthus with wine, you are not a teenager.

No companions, no words, despite the vicissitudes of life, still serene and calm. No matter how heavy the history of grief and indignation is, it has also dispersed into smoke and dust. You don't need to remember the dynasties separated by thousands of years, just remember the free and easy way to buy flowers and wine. A pot of wine, a breeze, no need to be happy, just go quietly.

Common poppy/corn poppy/poppy

Ye Mengde

Falling flowers dance in front of the style. Send yellow rain again. Half of Xiaolai's courtyard is red. Only the hair is so weak that the sky is clear, Wan Li. Yin follows the shadow. Better have a glass of wine. Beauty doesn't have to be frowned upon. I am also sentimental and helpless.

A pot of fine wine is brewed in time, and memory is like old wine sealed in this jar of wine. Once you open it, enjoy it. On this hot day, invite friends to have a drink in the courtyard, watch the red all over the earth, a ray of warm sunshine, and bring a moving clarity. Everything in the world is a long mountain and a long river, which is consumed in a cup. Half awake and half drunk.

Water bag dance

fan zhongyan

Blue sky and yellow leaves. The autumn wind is full of waves, and the waves are cold and smoky. The mountain reflects the sun and the sky meets the water. The grass is ruthless, and the sunset is even more outside. Dark homesickness, thoughts of chasing travel. Every night unless, sweet dreams make people unable to sleep. The bright moon building is high and lonely. Wine becomes sorrow, acacia becomes tears.

When writing this poem, Fan Zhongyan was appointed as Fu Xuan's ambassador of Shanxi No.4 Road, stationed at the border. Frontier people always hope to return to the fields as soon as possible, guard a few acres of land in their hometown, plant loose fences, farm during the day, warm a pot of old wine at night, and tell their wives and children about the past of the Great Wall War. And this life can only be found in dreams. When the moonlight melts, I dare not go upstairs and overlook, for fear that my eyes will not touch my distant hometown. Dogs bark outside the door, and the autumn wind is getting tighter. Tomorrow, the yard of the hut will be covered with yellow leaves.

Fan Zhongyan is not only an affectionate man who worries about the world first, but also a tender husband who drinks it into his heart and turns it into acacia tears. Keep a calm in the traffic, and have a calm in the stormy waves. Autumn water is dust-free, bluegrass is faint, not happy with things, not sad with oneself.

Serenade of peace and joy/lyrics of peace, tranquility and joy

Xin Qiji

The eaves are low and small. Green grass by the stream. Drunk, beautiful and charming Who has white hair? Big-eared hoe fights west and east. Zhong Er is knitting a chicken coop. My favorite is my youngest son, who is lying in the grass, peeling the lotus just picked.

This word was written by Xin Qiji when he was ostracized in his later years and retired to Shangrao, Jiangxi Province, where he lived in seclusion. An all-powerful hot-blooded man took off his robe and returned to the countryside. After the great turmoil, his heart calmed down. In the hut by the stream, men plow, women weave, and children play. In the simple and quiet time, they forgot the fleeting time of transformation.

a plum blossom

Jie Jiang

A piece of spring worries about wine. The boat rocked on the river. The curtains upstairs are closed. Qiuniangdu and Tainiangjiao. The wind is blowing again. The rain is rustling. When will you go home to wash the guest robes? My heart is burning. Time can easily throw people away. Cherry is red. Green bananas.

Jie Jiang was a native of Yixing, Jiangsu in the late Song Dynasty and early Yuan Dynasty. After the death of the Southern Song Dynasty, he lived in seclusion. Known as "Mr. Zhushan" and "Cherry Jinshi". "Cherry Jinshi" is named after this word. At the time of writing this article, Jie Jiang was a traveler. He boarded a passenger ship and drifted alone on the Wujiang River, far or near. Wine flags, swaying in the wind. Wujiang is not far from Yixing, my hometown, but it is bound by dust. His hometown is close at hand, but far away. He could only stand by the boat and watch the wind and rain bleak. Time flies, in a blink of an eye, spring is already over half, cherry is red, banana is green, he is still far away, and he doesn't know his return or the date of his return.

Linjiangxian

Yan Dao Ji

After the dream, the balcony is locked high and the curtains hang low after drinking. When hatred came last spring. Falling Flowers Independent, Swift Qi Fei. I remember Xiaoping's first sight, and her focus was on the word se. Acacia is written on the string of pipa. At that time, the bright moon was there, and it had returned according to the colorful clouds.

Yan's ci is better than Yan Shu's. Historically, he was a stranger, wild and uninhibited, born in the hall, but he did not worship power. He wrote Poems on the Mountain, full of homesickness, profound writing, flowing and natural sentences. Close to Li Yu. All this is because of his family, a man with a passionate love hidden in his mind, his words must be gentle.

He remembered the rainy day, and met Xiaoping for the first time. Her charm and enchanting, crimson lips, black hair, black eyebrows, a dance, a chord sound, a look back, and even a lifetime sigh fascinated him. He knocked on the closed door of her heart and planted deep-rooted acacia in her heart with words and tenderness. After that, day and night, Xiaoping held the pipa, put acacia on the string and told him to listen.

Linjiangxian

Su Shi

I drank Dongpo in the evening and woke up drunk. It seemed like midnight when I came back. The child is short of breath. You shouldn't even knock on the door, but lean on your cane and listen to the sound of the river. The dragon hates that this body is not mine, so forget the camp. The night was calm and the lines were flat. Since then, this ship has passed away, and Jiang Hai spent the rest of his life.

That night, Dongpo drank, fell asleep after getting drunk, woke up and raised his glass until he was as drunk as a fiddler. After five years in exile in Huangzhou, he fell from a height to a trough, and his mood was naturally painful and depressed, and he could not stretch. However, Mr. Dongpo is generous and broad-minded, and does not let himself be frustrated and depressed. In his mind, there is always a calm that is not disturbed by the world.

When he came home drunk and knocked at the door late at night, his children were already asleep. Instead of being angry, he longed for the bright moon and the breeze, turned around and paced by the river, listening to the sound of the waves. At night, he sighed: I hate this kind of life for a long time. When can I forget camping? Looking back on so many years, I have been floating and drifting in the sea, living at the end of the world, and too many people can't extricate themselves. All this is because I can't let go of worldly merits, and I can't be willful and carefree because I am bound by foreign things.

The calm and waveless river clearly shows the soul and shows him his true self. At this time, he is not afraid to face the bleak and declining life, nor does he need to make any disguise, let alone rely on the past to have a tired hangover.

Temple corridors, rivers and lakes, heaven and earth, his ultimate destination, or his own heart. Everything in the world, the sea of clouds is boundless, but it is not as vast as a person's mind. The heart is the rivers and lakes, and the heart is the rivers and seas. I retired to my heart in exchange for real coolness.

coffee senna

Su Shi

Spring is not old, the wind is fine and the willows are oblique. Try to see it on the detached stage, half the city is full of flowers. Fog and rain darken thousands of people. After a cold meal, I woke up but felt uncomfortable. Don't miss the old country for the old friend, try new tea with new fire. Poetry and wine use time.

A poem "Wine" expresses a detachment from the world in its prime. It seems that all frustration and loneliness are unprovoked disappointment and waste. Life is full of ups and downs, and things are unpredictable. When you know the gain and loss, you should put it down. In the world, I still remember the breeze and the bright moon. In the case of being displaced from place to place, you should learn to live with it. This is Su Shi's way of life. He was still sober and broad-minded when he was born at the wrong time, and he didn't complain about the sad voice. He was relegated to exile, and he was displaced all his life, with too little pride and too much frustration. Many cities have left his footprints, his stories, his poems, his joys and sorrows.

Life is precious, and years are precious. If now, you are having the best time, cherish it and don't let it wash away from the gap of time like running water. Don't let missing become an irreparable regret in your life. If you have gone through the years, please look for the lost memories bit by bit in the annual rings of the years and reassemble a collection of youthful poems.