The song of the Qing Song is at my discretion, even if there will be anyone for thousands of generations.
A wine bottle, drunk Qiankun, who will judge the merits of a thousand years, and let me groan about the rise and fall of a hundred generations.
Wash away the hatred of the turbid world, cast the heroes and leave the songs, and the water flows east.
It's always true, the merits of thousands of years are not up to others, and the rivers and rivers are singing about the sun and the moon.
Falling to the end of the world, the eternal rivers and mountains are gone, and the backyard flowers.
The waves and sand, such as singing the sunset, have gone through thousands of generations of wonders.
Thousands of years of hatred, the history of the famous tragic song into a swan song, ancient eternal incense.
A song of Qing Song is doubtful for thousands of years, and the merits are judged by whom, let me judge.
Thousands of ancient rivers and mountains are harvested, light songs and dances are self-flowing, who is the merit of thousands of years, and the rise and fall of a hundred generations are at my disposal.
Thousands of autumns sing endlessly, the rivers and mountains are several generations of romance, the dance pavilion is still there, and the eternal river floats day and night.
Remembering Zhengrong, Ren Zongheng, becoming unified, singing the prosperity of the world.
The road to the end of the world, the flow is my home, people are not old, and they can still bloom for hundreds of generations.
A scholar in the country, high-spirited, who can talk about it, heroes for a hundred generations, I walk alone.
The unification of the country has been passed down from generation to generation, the peaceful songs of the prosperous era are endless, and the heroes have been left behind for eternity.
He has thought about it, the romance is always when he was a teenager, a wisp of it disperses with the clouds, and the white-headed people don't know.
A generation of romance for hundreds of years, for the monarch to stay, do not change the ambition of the year, and smile proud of the eternal sorrow of the rivers and lakes.
A glass of turbid wine relieves a thousand sorrows, the two sideburns fly frost and stain the white head, the blue eyes are difficult to change at any time, and the red face is easy to be romantic year by year.
I don't know when the autumn will reunite after a farewell year, and the wine talk is romantic.
When you get old, you know that there are few green eyes, so the people are sparse, and the wisps of sorrow are scattered with the clouds, so don't make the white head empty and return to themselves.
The song is competing, the blue eyes are endless, the white-headed man of Mo Dao is old, and the autumn moon is not worried.
Eternal sorrow, Pulsatilla tearful eyes, no one knows, I don't understand that the romance is Bianzhou.
Mo Dao's life is a few sad in the autumn and moon, and he is often accompanied by him, so he is not afraid of being free.
The intention is not endless, where the rivers and lakes have been old and white-haired.
The south of the Yangtze River and the north are competing, the blue eyes look at each other endlessly, the white-headed people of Mo Dao are old, and the poetry does not reduce the sorrow of the year.
Without saying goodbye, the years have passed by, and the red dust is looking for romance.
Blue eyes to the high-rise building, infinite wind and flow, thousands of miles of rivers and mountains are endless, where to find the marquis.
The Weaver Girl Cowherd's blue eyes are not ashamed, and the white-headed old ice heart relieves a thousand sorrows.
The rain is a little sad, and in the dream, he has pity for the thin shadow, and he is not romantic.
He has known talents, the romance has been dusty since ancient times, there is no confidant in the future, and the world is white-headed.
Looking at each other is not free, looking for romance, new sorrows and old hatreds are all abandoned, just for the amorous smile and white-headed.
is more romantic, knows female cows, and Mo Dao's white head is hot and relieves thousands of sorrows.
The Cowherd is sad in both places, the blue eyes in the sky in the world have no confidants, and the night is full of autumn.
The cowherd has a white head, a few sorrows in the sky, and the poor blue-eyed man is a prisoner.
The blue-eyed romantic dream is true in his life, and Mo Dao is still a young man.
Hidden Immortal Mountain, Yellow Flowers Reflect Bitan, Light Boat Tourists Drunk, Dream Jiangnan.
The red leaves reflect the sky, the blue sky, and the autumn colors are boundless in the green water and the sunset.
Qingxi green water small bridge passes, the mountains are green, the white clouds float on the ridge, and the slopes are full of red leaves dancing in the autumn wind.
The green smoke surrounds the ancient city, the green water gurgles the stone path, and the white clouds and red leaves dance in the distance.
The hidden fairy trail, the autumn is strong, the flow is endless, and the tent is drunk hibiscus.
The red leaves are scattered and the autumn is gone, the white clouds and the dogs look at each other, the green smoke goes with the wind, and the green water is three thousand into the dream.
Qingxi green water and green pines cover the small door, and a few white clouds and red leaves reflect the dusk.
Fish play in the waves, birds fly, white clouds roll with the wind, and red leaves are floating at my maybe.
The blue sea and white clouds play in the waves, the red leaves and green water of Cangshan flow eastward, and the green peaks on both sides sink westward.
Dyeing the autumn, a white cloud sky flows, and the green girl does not know the green water to swim eastward.
The two are suitable, and one flower in the green gauze tent floats away, and I can't bear to leave.
In the dream, the willows by the pool are new, and a few white clouds and red leaves dance into spring.
He Cuiwei, the red leaves are all over the mountain and flow ruthlessly, and the intention is open.
There are people in the depths of the red leaves and yellow flowers, and a few wisps go with the wind, falling into a dream.
The green water and blue sky welcome the distant guests, the green mountains and blue sea send the boat back, the fishing song rises in the depths of the white clouds, and the red leaves and forests are long.
The moon in the tent is like a hook, the flowers by the green pool are like shame, the white clouds drift into a dream, and the mountains are full of red leaves drunk in autumn.
Zheng Huixian Zheng Huixian Chinese art