A glass of aged wine.
Text: Zhao Ji. 
The wind blows the leaves, and the clear sound makes the poetry sad. The withered willows on the side of the ancient road bridge, and the branches of the icy sky.
Forget to return, greedy to watch the sunset, the sun is warm and cold. A glass of old wine in the evening, splashing ink is difficult to collect.
Words: After the winter solstice, it is the number nine, and there is still snow on the ground. In the rest of his life, he lived in the suburbs and felt the cold of the north, but he still insisted on walking outdoors. In the evening, the sun sets by the water. Between the sky, a touch of afterglow is warm. The cold waves are thousands of stacks, adding a bit of warmth. On the side of the ancient road and bridge, the withered willow branches, and the frozen finches compete for perch and make noise. I don't know who it isA shout frightened the flocks of birds.
In the shadow of dusk, hurry back to the evening. The winding road is verdant, and the fence is eye-catching. In the cold wind, the delicate and clear sound is born among the bamboos. Stop and listen, and your heart will wake up. Watching and listening, feeling the nobility of bamboo, humility and humility, tenacity and unyielding. Slim and bamboo, the wind passes without leaving a sound, and he is really a gentleman. Yu once planted a pot of bamboo at home, and watched it day and night, in order to nourish the heart.
The wind is thin in the evening, and it is cold to the bone. After walking, I was soaked in cold, and my feet and hands were frozen. Back to the village, the guest house is warm. When the mood comes, you want to drink a cup to ward off the cold. A glass of aged wine, a plate of peanuts, savor and chew slowly, warm your heart. The wine is still stale and fragrant, and it is slightly drunk when you drink less. So, the paper was studied, and the ink was written. Repair three or five bamboo poles, the breeze is born on paper, and it is a pleasure to read.
When Yu splashed ink, the words were born. The words are written according to the word, there is no word under the lamp, and the words of Song Ouyang Wenzhong are filled in according to the words of Song Ouyang Wenzhong. The words filled in by the rest are all written about the heart, the situation, and the feelings. For decades, he has been attached to poetry and calligraphy and painting, and has been diligently pursuing. When people are in their twilight years, they should choose the life that suits them. Be the protagonist of life, live a healthy life, live an elegant life, and live the best version of yourself.
December 26, 2023 in Xijunzhuang.