Yang Wanli's Preface to the South Lake of Yuezhai said: "When I first came to China, Fu Tu U talked about Sion, the great-grandson of Yuezhai, and admired him, but he still thought he was your son, so he dared not do it. I made an appointment with Zhai Zi when I visited Lu Wuguan in the West Lake. He sat under the thatched cottage, his eyes deep, his shoulders and knees cold. If his intention transcends Yan Yue, he will not be your son, and I hate to know it too late. " In addition, "Advance and retreat to send Zhang Gongfu Jiang" says: "You, Lu Sizhi's poem Weng, who will be the last one? The new worship of Nanhu is a general, and even worse, Baishi is a pioneer. "
Zhang Bing is the author of Zhao Yutang's Ci. There were eighty-four words in the Song Dynasty. There is a chorus with Xin Qiji, and the style of words is slightly closer. Good at reciting things.
Representative works and poems have different opinions.
Yuanming's knees are full of tung, and he refuses to hang up. No one knows this.
It is said that the piano is the only useful string in the world. What is said is whether there is or not.
Yang Bohu's improvisation
Surrounded by e bamboo, there is a small platform in the middle. Sometimes guests come to see the flowers at will.
Wipe the berries, moss stone, with a Z cup. Crows are dying, and there are several in the poem.
Zhuang Qisheng lived in Jinghu Lake and wrote six poems "I Love My Family", which were reported for two rhymes and presented to comrades.
I also love my Lu, the first variety show in Guangxi. The west is fragrant and gloomy, and the wind welcomes it.
Flowers bloom and fall, but the real world is still. There are many groups of incense, which are magical, ingenious and colorful.
If you have a clean vision, you can't count on it. Red and white, political views are daily.
Although the barrier between mountains and rivers cannot be repaired, this joy will last forever. Every field is a piece of wood, not a joke.
A smile and a poem are love, love and love.
Zhu Xuan Shi xing
In Chai Men, the wind blows far away, and bamboo is planted. The sharp shadow is thin from the tea bowl, and the leaves sound light.
Summer is tired, stars penetrate, winter is idle, daytime is idle, and snow is crushed. It is expected that it will be better at this time. Don't touch a plum under the wall.
Poet Fang Ting's wording
The moon washes the high road, the grass is exposed, and the autumn outside Baochai Building is deep. Soil flowers are green, and fireflies fall on the wall.
Listening to the cold sounds is intermittent, slightly rhyming and sad. Strive for partners, diligently persuade weaving, and promote dawn.
When I was a child, I remember to call the lamp to fill the hole and follow the sound. Covered in flowers and shadows, you hesitate to pursue it.
Take it to Huatang for a fight. The pavilion is small and the cage is clever. Today, don't say that from under the beam bed, cold nights are accompanied by lonely songs.
Yanshan pavilion
At the beginning of the dream, the heavy yin did not open, and the dawn color blew into rain. The bamboo sill is cold, the grass is shaking, and Nanpu is green and dark.
There are no pedestrians, only half-opened, cloister Zhu Hu. In no mood, the sky looks very neon, and brocade books are hard to find.
Moss trails reminisce about the past, who accompanied them, swings and colored rope incense columns. The rhinoceros is curled up, and the phoenix pillow is lonely. It needs to be frozen several times.
How can I get the benefits? Flowers and fog surround me and the depths of the small hall. I'm too old to teach.