The road is heavy, where the rivers and lakes do not meet, the heart is still strong, and the pen is strong.
Wandering the rivers and lakes, don't ask if there is or not, ordinary things, walking all over the green mountains do not know the way.
Bumpy road, wind, frost, rain and snow like a brocade spring, unswerving.
The pen is not dry, the poetry is long, the road is difficult, the future is thousands of miles, who asks, and people are forgiving themselves in the rivers and lakes.
Bright as the sun, smiling proud of the rivers and lakes, life has a long way to go, and poetry and books accompany me to the end of the world.
The rivers and lakes are rotten, don't ask if there is a future, go south and north for 3,000 miles, and the green mountains don't know the way.
The journey of thousands of miles is like a golden river and a lake.
Dream walking, bumpy road and many obstacles, let you wander.
The future is uneven, the rivers and lakes are drifting away, there are many ups and downs, and there are fewer dots on the pen.
The years of the rivers and lakes are deep, looking for bosom friends, going south and north, and seeing the red heart on the bumpy road.
I don't know the way, Ren Juan Shu, Mo Dao's future will be in the rivers and lakes.
The fertile soil cattle and sheep walk, strolling on the new road has many dangers and obstacles, and the rivers and lakes are wandering.
Why bother asking about the future, the rivers and lakes are at your disposal, and the cape of the journey of thousands of miles is a walk.
The wind sends the sound of birds and flowers to the window, and the lonely insects of the empty steps are accompanied by the ancient acacia.
The window sounds, the flower shadow flies on the curtain, the night is quiet, and the guests have not returned.
The grass is as green as yesterday, the night is deep, and the birds are still moaning for themselves.
In the middle of the night, the insects chirp and the moon shadow is oblique, the end of the world, not dissociating people and birds, still sweeping osmanthus from the window.
In the dead of night, the birds are silent, leaning alone on the window to look at the moon, and the lonely empty dream is accompanied by the chirping of insects.
People are sleepless, screaming, frightened dreams, looking at the sky in front of the steps.
The sound of the cold worm under the stairs is intermittent, the insects chirp and the grass cracks the night is desolate, the birds in the forest are frightened and dreaming, and the bright moon shines on my window.
In the middle of the night, insects chirp, the shadows of the trees make the autumn sound, and the birds in the forest linger under the fragrant windows.
Smell the birds, watch the falling flowers, sit idle in front of the steps and think about the past, and the insects will chirp to whose house in the middle of the night.
The night is quiet, the window is bright and the bamboo sleeps, the birds cry through the grass cracks and frighten the dream, and the moon shines before the steps.
At the beginning of the rain, the insects chirp in the middle of the night, the grass and trees are frightened, and the branches of the resident birds are put into the sky full of stars.
The night is slightly cool, and the branches in front of the steps under the moon are full of dreams, full of flowers.
If continuous, the window seems to be affectionate, and the bright moon in front of the steps is accompanied by the sound of insects.
Falling into a cold dream, the morning breeze blows the willow frog drum to urge people to wake up, and the future is not over.
The moon shadow is low, and the dream on the branch is frightened, and the small building is west.
Grass, trees and insects chirp between the mountains and rivers, the bright moon shines sleepless in front of the steps, the birds are startled in the dead of night, and they lean on the window to look at the sky.
Returning to the forest is empty, pushing the window and seeing the moon hazy, no one sweeps the fallen leaves, only the insects chirp in the night.
Go up to the west building, crying endlessly, frightening dreams, and the flowers in front of the steps cause homesickness.
Raindrops sycamores, insects chirping grass, wandering children, singing the big Jiangdong through the window.
The insects chirp at night and the half moon are like hooks, reminiscing about the old days, frightening birds, pushing the window into a day of autumn.
The birds and branches look at the mountains and rivers, the grass in front of the steps is even blue, and the insects are singing with me.
The small courtyard listens to the autumn rain, the birds can't stop crying on the branches, the insects chirp and frighten the dreams, and the flowers fall all over the east fence in front of the steps.
The lonely shadow of the empty steps is uneven, people don't know, the flying branches are on the moon, and the lights of a window are photographic.
In the middle of the night, the insects chirped and the moon was dim, the empty steps were lonely and shadowless, and the birds on the branches of the trees were suddenly heard, waking up the dreamers in the west window.
Thousands of miles, the Ming Dynasty is a snowman, and the poetry dream has not come true.
Don't ask where the Ming Dynasty went, so the people's feelings, the green mountains have not changed the old times, and the green water flows for a long time.
The east wind sends the passengers, the spring color in the south of the Yangtze River is not clear, the peach blossoms do not know the face of the people, and the Ming Dynasty brings rain.
People have woken up, Chengmen Lixue waits for the sky to clear, the wind goes, and watch the rising sun of the Ming Dynasty.
I don't know where in the world to ask about the previous life, three thousand miles, and I haven't changed my infatuation to the fifth watch.
Looking for the trace, I don't know that the peach blossoms are blown after the spring breeze, and it is hazy.
Thousands of miles of rivers and mountains do not count, thousands of years have not changed the old name, who knows the east wind, only wait for the Ming Dynasty to be more red.
The painting is not completed, and the flat boat does not know the affairs of the world, and it is still the sound of rain since the Ming Dynasty.
The Ming Dynasty is a common shadow, where the spring breeze does not know the king, the heart is drunk before meeting without speaking, and Chengmen is a snowman.
Cheng Men Lixue said lightly that his temples have frosted, and there is no end to learning the sea, and there is a more brilliant road.
The autumn moon has plummeted, and the end of the world looks to know Chang'e's face and accompany me.
Chengmen is not stained with dust, the cold window has not sunk for ten years, knows the east wind side, and likes to see another spring in the Ming Dynasty.
There is injustice in the world, and a new journey, knowing the old Ma Si Qianli, when the Ming Dynasty will start again.
Zheng Huixian Zheng Huixian Chinese art