Listen to the rain flute at night, and occasionally hear songs floating in the distance, but I say, "May people live for a long time, thousands of miles away ..."
At present, there is a bright moon, still a till, holding up my cup, and I ask the bright moon if she can ask the sky for wine. A blue shirt, pen room, unrestrained mixed with tenderness, because it is Dongpo, so you can "smoke and rain for life" or "draw yellow with your left hand and hold blue with your right hand" Strolling in Song Ci, you have been with me safely for many years, all the way through the Woods and leaves, ups and downs.
At present, Wan Li rivers and mountains. Between your brow, there is also a feeling that "it is easier to see when you are away" and a sadness that "when are the spring flowers and the autumn moon?" Woke up still dreaming. For Song Ci, it is a kind of lost beauty that the country falls for it. Sigh, "How much sadness can you have?" Worried about the collapse of the old country, worried about the loss of freedom ... but your eyes are heavy, so you wrote: "The old country can't bear to look back on the moon and has a bright future." "Like Jiangdong Liu", "I don't know the guests in my dreams, and I am greedy all day long" ... Walking in the Song Dynasty, you accompanied me safely for many years, and all the way was full of flowers and months.
You are drunk in the mountains and rivers, but you can't let go of the countryside. You put your talents into writing, and the Ten Theories of Meiqin recited by thousands of people is enough to show your ambition, but in front of you, "Hungry rats around the bed, bats dancing lights", "I have been in Jiangbei all my life and returned home with a pale face", only sighing "poor white hair"! But you are Jiaxuan, and you "look at the sword after drinking, and blow the horn in your dream", "Mazuolu is fast, and his bow is like a thunderbolt", or you can be in the north of the Yangtze River, because it is you, and Wan Li is in front of you. Strolling through Song Ci. You have been with me safely for many years, and the lights have faded all the way through the clear autumn.
At present, the picturesque beauty of Song Ci, such as the Golden Goma Railway and the misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River, meets Song Ci, such as Zhuang Zhoumeng Butterfly, and Li Bai is intoxicated with it.
The sunset is lonely, the city is closed, but Ran Yan has no idea, but Song Ci, writing heartbroken feelings. The sound on the side is rising. People go unnoticed, Qiang tube is difficult to continue, first frost is everywhere.
It was raining outside the curtain. On that day, I met Song Ci.