Kapok (new rhyme).
The mountain rain is in a hurry into the night, shaking red and discoloring before the wind.
Luoying is still shy, and she loves pity even if she doesn't have spring branches.
Lotus Pond Village Bellflower (new rhyme).
A wind chime has been released in spring, and the farmhouse is secluded and new.
The sky is never thick and thin, and the ten-mile flower gallery is evenly colored.
Porcelain jug. The mountains and wilderness are humble and rarely cared about, and once they were goodbye, they were dirty.
The fire gate was repaired to be transparent, and since then the world has been a guest.
Wangchun (new rhyme).
The sound of spring on the chessboard ridge is slow, and the brown color of the thousand ridge terraces is thick.
lived up to the king's heart, and brought a few pretty eyes.
See**. Looking at the peach and plum smiles across the screen, the horizontal sparse shadow is dark and fragrant.
It's only been ten days this spring, and I still remember the sound of frolicking in the past.
Climb the North Mountain and stay overnight under the windmill.
Cheng Ling is extremely wide and wide, and the checkout is lying in the white clouds.
The windmill roars all night long, and it can also be heard as a song.
Golden needle flower (new rhyme).
Living in the countryside, he has a leisurely spirit.
Whoever the flowers fall is looking forward to, and the long-term love is silently to the green mountains.
Untitled. Who invited the bright moon to send you to Feng, and the autumn wind was thick overnight.
Why do you want to talk about it, and the tea color of the sinking pot is nowhere to be found.
Pingxi Pavilion view tea field.
Rain and dew promote germination, and the terraced fields are stacked and green.
The land is closer to the people, not by Fangfei.
Phoenix Tianchi azaleas bloom.
Hundreds of miles of east wind, crying red and seeing new.
Looking for a fragrance must be as soon as possible, do not be a funeral flower person.
Enjoy the plum blossoms on the green bamboo trail.
Shaohua occupied the court and competed to enter the mirror.
Oiran who should be, none of them hold a new open.
About author:Cai Hong, pen name Han Lan, is a native of Chaozhou, Guangdong, and works as a teacher in Han. He loves ancient poetry and modern poetry, and is a member of the Chinese modern poetry exemption. Occasionally, his works can be found in paper publications and ** and micro-journal platforms.