The sky is full of greenery, and the rainbow bridge breaks through the fog to see the true face.
Hundred flowers are red, thousands of miles of wind, the clouds are light, the sky is high, the eagle spreads its wings, and the mountains and rivers are beautiful like rainbows.
After the rain, the sky is clear and rainbow, the clouds open and the fog disperses, and the wild geese fly for thousands of miles, and the earth and thousands of mountains dance dragons.
The clouds are fluttering, the blue sea is surging rainbows, looking up at the sky and the earth are full of spring breeze.
The geese are in a row, the earth is thousands of autumns, and the western mountains are rainbow and blue.
Hundreds of flowers, the sky is soaring, the clouds are light, the sky is high, the rain is high, and the willows are raised.
Across the seashore, through the clouds and fog for thousands of miles, the year is not old.
The sky is high and the clouds are light, the rivers and mountains are full of rainbows, the sky is eternal, and the work is a hundred years.
The scorching sun is hot in the sky, the wind rises on the vast earth, the rainbow flies in the colorful sky, and the clouds are born at the foot of a thousand mountains.
The scorching heat is steaming, the sky is thousands of miles of ice, the clouds are light and the autumn breeze is cool, and the rain is rainbow and the sun is rising.
Half the sky, sleepless nights, a little love, vaguely in a dream.
Leave the word goose back, dream into the window, three more rain, soaked green shirt full of tears.
The dream is ethereal, the road to Shu is difficult, unconscious, and the wind and rain are blowing for another year.
The rain hit the remnants of the flowers, the tears were dry, the lovesickness was difficult to relieve the suffering, and the dream vaguely looked forward to the full moon.
The clothes are not cold, the spring breeze and rain moisten the heart, the bitterness is short, and the smile is vaguely seen in the dream.
The spring breeze is incomprehensible and the flowers are blooming, the old people come, the sound of the rain banana is getting farther away, and the tears are soaked through the old pavilion.
Shocked to hear the bad news and dream, I want to complain that I can't sleep, I don't realize that I am soaking wet and green, and the wind and rain are blowing for another year.
I don't know the cold, my clothes are soaked and I can't sleep, and I can't sleep, and I return home.
Soaked green shirt tears, always about love, life is difficult to have the power to return to heaven, Du Yusheng is often heard in dreams.
It's hard to write about the bottom of my heart, I often remember the people in front of me in my dreams, Xiaoxiang rain in the Qingming season, and the green shirt is full of tears.
The morning glow is purple, the children's flute blows horizontally and the twilight is red, the sound is pleasant, and the cattle plough the fertile field with green eyes.
The cow's back shepherd flute is crisp into the clouds, released with the wind, and the old man plays with children's laughter and noise.
The sunset is slanting, putting down the plough and raking the branches of spring, and the joy is blooming.
Sheep and horses are herded and the wind blows the grass, the children play in the water and play the waves, the birds sing the branches and the sound is pleasant, and the cattle plough the fertile fields and are as green as smoke.
The green willows are green, the cattle plough the fertile fields and the flute plays a new song, and the magpie branches compete for the sound.
The transverse flute blows the pastoral song, the birds in the forest sing mountain songs, the peach blossoms bloom in the farmhouse courtyard, and the children play with the water waves.
At sunset, the east mountain sings endlessly, and the birds return to the forest and play the flute in the evening.
Full of garden incense, the old boy branches sound pleasant, green into a row.
The branches and willows spit smoke, the cattle plough the fertile weeds, the transverse flute blows new songs, and the old man raises the whip and releases the paper kite.
Returning to the sunset, another year, put down the hoe and laughed to himself, calling the children to drink the fairy.
The nursery rhyme is far away, the sun shadow is slanting, and the birds sing on the grass on the branches and ridges.
The sunset is red when returning, the village children play with waterfowl and sing crisply, and the cow plays the flute in the sunset.
Birds and magpies are singing on the branches, cattle and sheep are lying in the grass, and the most is the village children casting lines to fish by the stream.
A glass of turbid wine is vaguely not dry, and the rain hits the plantain and soaks it to the cold.
Tears are full, it is difficult to see the old people, the heart is still painful, and the night is deeper.
When the rain goes to the south of the Yangtze River, I don't feel cold, and I can't sleep in the middle of the night and go around the township several times.
The soaked green shirt can't bear to return, it always contradicts, the heart is old and the spring is old, and the swallow flies vaguely in the dream.
Life is rare to have a few joys, vaguely reminiscing about the old years in my dreams, and the rain hit the plantain and soaked me with tears.
When I arrived in the south of the Yangtze River, it was difficult to repeat it, and I didn't realize it, and it fell into the clear pool with rain.
The spring breeze and rain moisten the south of the Yangtze River, the soaked green shirt is unwilling, it is difficult to understand the thousands of wisps of lovesickness, and I vaguely see the gentleman's face in my dream.
Pingchou came to listen to the bird's cry after the rain and wind, and wanted to let the flat boat drink drunk like mud.
The white-headed boy, the wind of thousands of miles, the birds are singing and the flowers are splendid, and a cow ploughs to break the crystal clear.
Put Ma Nanshan regardless of the year, call the children to call friends, birds to sing, and the cattle on the slope struggle to lead.
Flying silk flocculent, the cow drinks the clear spring lying on the grass, and the most favorite village children are endlessly happy.
Three spring rains, birds fly to the end of the world, laughing village children.
Blowing the sunset, setting the line to fish the sun, the poet of the birds in the forest returns to his hometown.
There are shadows in the clouds, and the birds on the north bank of the child are singing and singing, and the children return to the evening village.
Suddenly, I heard that the mountain bird herdsman returned late, and the village children were scoundrels, and the paper kite was shining.
The cow's back shepherd flute blows the sunset, the birds in the forest sing the morning light, the mountain flowers bloom in the wind, and the old man is tired of playing children's fun.
The village children played by the water, singing the partridge sky, the birds chirped, and the cow carried the schoolbag and returned it.
Zheng Huixian Zheng Huixian Chinese art