Small mountain village, red leaves and yellow flowers are deep, where is the sunset.
Last night, the grass in the courtyard of the west window was miserable, and it went with the wind, and the yellow flowers were accompanied by the rooster's cry.
Don't be miserable, the journey of thousands of miles is full of mountains and autumn colors, and the five watches are crying.
The autumn breeze of the red leaves on the mountain, the chickens and dogs smell each other in the sunset, the sunset in the west is infinitely good, and the sunset is thick.
Smell the chicken, the mountain is full of red leaves and grass, and the sky is blue, and I don't feel that the sun is low in the west.
The stars are sinking in the west, the wind blows the grass and the shadows are miserable, the mountains are full of red leaves with the flowing water, and the jackdaws accompany the chickens.
The mountains are full of red leaves, and people have not returned, and the sunset path wanders alone.
When the flowers are blooming, the mountains are full of red to send me back to the south and drink together.
The red leaves are better than the spring flowers, the yellow flowers everywhere reflect the sunset, the east fence invites the moon to get drunk, when to return to plant mulberry hemp.
The sound of the return geese is high, the chrysanthemums are appreciated, the yellow flowers are fragrant everywhere, and the red leaves are drunk in the sky.
Looking for old traces, when to meet, yellow flowers are all over the ground and fall into a dream with the wind.
The yellow flowers are strong in autumn, the red leaves on the mountains return to the sunset evening, and sit alone on the east fence to enjoy the falling English.
Drifting with the passing water, lonely with the slanting sun, the east fence to get drunk and sleep.
When he returned, he was drunk in the West Building, and Huanghua was puzzled and difficult to know the wanderer's sorrow.
Drunk autumn is high, come to Xi with pride, yellow flowers bloom, and dance enchantingly.
The autumn wind is old, the night rain is cold, and when I return, I ask Tao Qian about the wine.
Who is left for the red leaves on the mountain, sad alone, the east fence invites the moon to get drunk, and I don't know when to return.
The spring breeze returns to the end of the world, picking chrysanthemums in the east fence to enjoy the sunset, and the yellow flowers and red leaves of Modao are better than home.
Drunk in autumn, several times sad, still here, who is left for the red leaves.
The yellow flowers fall and fall in autumn, the red leaves drift away and the water flows, where is the return, and the east fence puts the wine on the high-rise building.
The mountains are full of red leaves and yellow flowers, and the fragrance of yellow flowers is in the mud, and the chrysanthemums are picked and the east fence returns to the birds.
Revisited, drunk endlessly, last night the yellow flowers bloomed all over the ground, and now the red leaves fall on the branches.
Dongli gave the wine a new poem, returned to the yellow flowers blooming all over the ground, and now the red leaves are infatuated.
At the right time, the red leaves inscribed poems sent distant thoughts, and returned to give new words to the wine.
Thinking from afar, where is the yellow flower wine picking chrysanthemums, I don't know.
The years are long, the drunken sun, the yellow flower is difficult to understand, and it is difficult to know the ground injury.
Words mulberry hemp, return to the yellow flowers full of sleeves, leaf dance light yarn.
Yellow flowers are all over the mountains and reflect the colorful glow, where is the coming from, talking mulberry hemp.
The red leaves float and the water flows freely, the yellow flowers fall and it is autumn, the east fence invites the wine to the bright moon, and the return is not tied to the boat.
I don't see anyone returning, only the east fence chrysanthemum is blooming, the yellow flower has no good sentence, and a branch of red leaves enters the poem.
It's not too late, just at the right time, leaving people drunk, and the red leaves have no intention of provoking me crazy.
The wind is cool in the dream, the chrysanthemum is still fragrant, and it is another year of begonia.
The yellow flowers are full of fragrance in the courtyard overnight, sending coolness, good autumn light, melancholy life and Chongyang.
Unprovoked melancholy autumn came to a dream, last night the west wind blew the leaves, and the yellow flowers were still smiling.
It's autumn again, and I'm a little melancholy, not detached from people's minds, and I am full of sorrow when I blow off the yellow flowers.
The west wind is full of fallen leaves on the riverside, it is not spring, there is nowhere to find the east fence, and there are still people who have not returned in autumn.
The yellow flowers all over the ground are not spring, the west wind sweeps away the remnants of the clouds overnight, and the autumn comes to Mo Dao without color, and there is a little melancholy in the world.
On the high platform, the west wind blows the leaves in the autumn light, and the ground is open for whom.
It is another year of spring and autumn, and the west wind is not dissociated, blowing off the yellow flowers and filling the ground.
The fallen leaves are full of Chang'an, the yellow flowers everywhere look alone, melancholy I don't know where to go, the bright moon shines on the autumn cold.
No one swept it, the west wind blew red overnight, the frost and dew were cold, and I was a little melancholy in my heart.
The melancholy years are short for dozens of autumns, parting with hatred, and sending yellow flowers all over the head.
It doesn't hurt the gods, the melancholy west wind blows the leaves at the end of the world, and laughs at the idiot.
One night the west wind is new, the yellow flowers are all over the ground and do not stick to the dust, climb high and look at the distant sky and be melancholy, autumn goes to winter and spring comes.
The opening is just right, the west wind and the fallen leaves do not see the southern flying geese, and the end of the world is in a dream.
The east fence is a slope, autumn is everywhere, the west wind is frightened last night, and the yellow flower is a chrysanthemum.
It's autumn deep melancholy again, and the west wind doesn't understand the yellow flowers and laughs at me.
Falling sycamore leaves, how many things are in the world full of yellow people, farewell song.
The yellow flowers are fragrant all over the building, and the west wind has no intention of causing people to worry, not understanding the bitterness of parting, and feeling melancholy and lovesick.
The sunset at the end of the world is oblique, no crows are flying, the west wind blows the old plane tree, and the yellow flower is unique.
Zheng Huixian Zheng Huixian Chinese art