Standing in the long river of the century, looking at the shepherd boy's finger points to an eternal poetic prosperity-the Tang Dynasty, which is full of songs and dances. The poetry books of the Tang Dynasty are full of energy and eternal; There are 300 Tang poems, and the pen is full of flowers. Whether it's the tragic feelings of a strong man in the battlefield who never returns to his husband, or the feelings of a lady in a boudoir who misses her daughter to spend the autumn moon, the beauty of Tang poetry is absolutely beautiful and lasting, whether it hurts people's hearts, whether it has gone through the sea, whether it is inspiring or bleak.
Reading three hundred Tang poems and then reading one is like pulling out a rusty Gu Jian. In the darkness, there is a shining soul who respects the immortal heroes: rich in life and death, swallowed by mountains and rivers, full of dreams of horses and chariots, roaring back and forth in the sky ... they are all destroyed in the rolling waves. What a heroic Tang poem! Reading a Tang poem is like opening an ancient rouge box, and in the dense fragrance, a sigh of unfortunate beauty rises. I don't know about Jun Jun, but it's miserable and cold. Beauty curtain, tears look at flowers, how many lonely spring skirts are dyed red with pink tears! What a beautiful Tang poem! Shallow talk, wipe tears and cover up the volume.
The bell of Hanshan Temple lingers, spreading its wings through time and space, flying over the world of mortals, like a wild goose singing like a flute, and the sound spectrum is ileum. Things have changed, and the years are impermanent. How many emperors have changed! Tang Zong Song Zu, smashing halberds and sinking sand; Three thousand makeup, sighing. Wealth and fame are fleeting, and the king rules the Ganges. Only the bells of Hanshan Temple outside Gusu City are still repeating the eternal twilight. Jiang Feng's fishing in the Tang Dynasty lingered forever in the poems of the next generation, beating the sleepless nights on earth.
Moonlight in the Tang Dynasty. I don't know who first saw the moon on a moonlit night by the river. Since then, thousands of miles have been trickling to illuminate the loneliness of people who never sleep every night. The moon is the hometown of wanderers, and so bright a gleam on the foot of my bed is always the frost of homesickness;
The moon is the concern of Sifu. In the sound of rags, the brightness is decreasing every night. The moon is a lonely man's drinking friend, wandering around with my shadow, making the three of us toasters.
The wine in the Tang Dynasty was very strong. The poet has been attracted to raise a glass to drown his sorrows. He has changed his money for wine, but he wants to get drunk. Three glasses of wine can lead to Confucianism, and it is natural for Taoism to drink it all in one game. How many times can a person be intoxicated in his life? The breeze pours wine into the river and looks at the sword when drunk. When you are drunk, you forget the honor and disgrace of the world, and the world is cold. At present, the wine is strong, and I am full of pride if I come to a pot of spirits.
The pain of parting in the Tang Dynasty. Baqiao River is gurgling, and willow shadows keep flowing. Mulan's canoe has been urged to leave her sorrow, which caused an autumn rain last night and increased the endless water flow. What can't be left after the wicker is broken is the footsteps of Iraqis; What can't be left is the skirt of the years. A farewell song, two lines of tears, Xiang Jun Xiaoxiang and me Qin Xiang. It is said that there are people in the west who go out of Yangguan for no reason. Where can I meet you again?
Poets in the Tang Dynasty were noble. A pot of wine, a sword, a waning moon. Dancing and drinking all the way Dance a sword in the prosperous Tang Dynasty and drink a fallen fairy in the poetry circle. Drunk in Chang 'an, the son of heaven is hard to find, not a whitewash, not a hollow reputation. Laugh and sigh proudly, 90,000 Li Fengpeng is a positive move. The sea laughed and sent boats to travel all over the rivers and mountains of the old country. How can you ruin your eyebrows in life?
How unlucky the beauties in the Tang Dynasty are. On the blade, the long sleeves are wide and comfortable, the dance is light and graceful, and the clouds are full of flowers and tears. Everyone envies the world of mortals riding a princess and laughing, but who pities the loess under the ponytail slope to shelter the wind? Love is unreliable, and color is unreliable. I have been charming all my life, and I don't know who will give up accepting it. In the hall of eternal life, there is a long life and death, and this hatred is endless.
Ten thousand volumes disappear forever from ancient times to modern times, and a window fades to send the fleeting time. Three hundred poems have been deposited in the wind for thousands of years. Make a cup of chrysanthemum tea, hold a roll of "Three Hundred Tang Poems", listen to the pouring out of the rain in the evening, and listen to the horns and feathers of the palace merchants' midnight pipa. There was wind blowing through the curtains outside the window, and I suddenly forgot what night it was.
Tang is in the body, Tang poetry is in the hand, and the motherland is in the heart.