In September, the Chongyang Festival chrysanthemums are waiting for you to come, and the maple red willow green forest is like a brocade.
The leaves are yellowing, reflecting the autumn light, the chrysanthemum pickers in the east fence are intoxicated, and it is a good year for Chongyang.
The moonlight maple forest is drunk for thousands of miles, and the autumn frost is dyed under the south window of the chrysanthemum, and it is a cup of Chongyang wine.
At the beginning of the dew, it is the September day of Chongyang, and the frost-dyed forest is better than the spring in autumn.
In the middle of September, the chrysanthemum of the east fence is not dissociated, like a fire.
The two temples urge, the leaves fall and the geese fly south, and the east fence picks chrysanthemums and appreciates the cuiwei.
Reflecting the mountains, the autumn colors are colorful and the cinnamon fragrance floats thousands of miles, and the festival is endless.
Chrysanthemum in the east fence festival to think of relatives, dye sideburns and add gorgeous hair, remember the old people.
The golden wind sends cool and heavy yang, chrysanthemum and cinnamon fall asleep, the maple leaves are red through frost, and the forest is dyed with autumn light.
The frost leaves reflect the red of the mountains, the sun dyes the river and the sky, the fragrance welcomes the distant guests, and the Chongyang Festival is endless.
Youth has passed away, the temples are spotted, the white hair is pale, the heart is not idle, the knees are happy with the children, and Sun Xianzi is filial piety.
Children's laughter is strong, the seat is happy, spring is permanent, and the sideburns are gray and the years are in a hurry.
Children and grandchildren go to other places for thousands of miles, tears are two, people are old, and it is difficult to dream long.
The chrysanthemum opens and the golden stamen is chongyang in September, the frost-dyed forest is red like fire, and the maple is dancing for thousands of miles.
Twice met Chongyang, chrysanthemum fragrance fell asleep, the frost was red like fire, and the autumn wind dyed thousands of mountains yellow.
In autumn, the frost dyes the red of the mountains, reflecting the blue sky, the chrysanthemum fragrance floats in the four fields, and the Chongyang Festival is endless.
The frost leaves are red in the maple in February, the layers of forests are dyed in the mountains, and the chrysanthemum pickers in the east fence are intoxicated, and it is a love of Chongyang.
Ju Zhengxiang, after the Chongyang Festival, it is dyed with thousands of mountains and thousands of miles of frost.
The shepherd boy flute rode the bull horizontally, walked around the trees, the Mo Dao mulberry elm was late, and the forest was dyed with red mountains.
The trees are dense and difficult to hide the birds, the wind is light in the evening and the boat is good, a few wisps of cooking smoke outside the village, and the sound of the flute on the back of the cow is long.
The birds are sparse, the forests are dyed with low clouds, the farmhouse, the cow-backed shepherd boy is lost.
The shepherd boy plays the flute at the beginning of the cooking smoke, the forest is quieter, and the late return to the wild path is like a hook.
Where to find, a few wisps of smoke return late from the west, far forest. The tall buildings are lined up with the blue sky, the sunset reflects the red mountains in the evening, the cooking smoke surrounds the farmhouse, and the shepherd boy and cow carry the flute.
In the late spring, the forest and trees are densely wrapped around the farmhouse, and the shepherd boy returns to the cow.
Winding around the green hills, the shepherd boy blows the flute on the back of the cow, the forest is deep and the grass is dense and uninhabited, and the wind is light and the swallows fly.
The shepherd boy cow is cooking smoke around my house, and the sunset of Mo Dao still sings the flowers in the backyard.
The forest crows are noisy in the trees, the wind blows around the farmhouse at night, and the wine is strong.
The evening wind is cold in the west, the twilight is vast among the forests and seas, the smoke is misty, and the sound of the shepherd boy and the flute on the back of the cow is heard.
The smoke comes out of the bushes, the east of the small bridge, the lower layer of the forest dyes in the west of the sunset, and the slanting sun outside the mountain is more red in the evening.
In the sound of the flute, the blue sky, the sunset and the bright moon on the west mountain hang in the east of the forest.
The forest welcomes distant guests, the fishing song shines around the farmhouse at night, and the cow-backed shepherd boy plays the flute.
In the late autumn in the west, the vast forest path is secluded, and a few wisps of cooking smoke are soft.
A few wisps of cooking smoke fly on the back of the cow's back, and the sun sets in the east and the jade rabbit returns.
The cow's back blows, the clouds fly at dusk, and the return of the west is late, and I can't bear to go back.
The mountain is deep and the stone path is sloping, the savage people's house, and the smoke curls around the shepherd boy and blows the trumpet.
The sunset shines on the water in the evening, the birds are noisy, the cooking smoke is around, and the shepherd boy is flute on the back of the cow.
A few wisps of cooking smoke curl in the blue sky, the shepherd boy cow carries the flute, and the sunset reflects the evening red.
The sound of the flute is far away, up to the nine skies, and the return is late, still shining on the top of half of the forest.
The forest path is deep in the whispering of birds, the stream sings evening fishing songs, the cooking smoke surrounds the farmhouse, and the cow-backed shepherd boy plays the flute.
On the eve of the year, the mountains are dyed red, and the smoke is in the sound of a few wisps of flute on the back of the cow.
On the side of the white clouds, put paper kites, the sunset of the west mountain forest is quieter, and the tea under the tree is leisurely at night.
The shepherd boy is on the back of the flute cow, the smoke starts from the west and returns late, and the deep moonlight of the forest is cool.
Tears flowed, alone on the lonely lamp sleepless at night, lonely and melancholy.
The flowers are speechless, the night rain is lonely and the lamp thinks about the past, another year.
For a long time, who asks to come, the lonely lamp is like rain and wet moss.
For the cold window, the lovesick autumn wind blows the leaves in the dream, and the words are desolate.
Ten years of lonely lights to the moon, lonely who together, send the autumn wind.
The breeze is incomprehensible and melancholy, the bright moon is difficult to know the lonely heart, a lonely lamp is empty and shadowy, and two lines of turbid tears are full of clothes.
The dream of a long night is difficult to come true, melancholy and speechless to the moon, the lonely lamp person is sleepless, and the two lines of turbid tears are hateful and affectionate.
Zheng Huixian Zheng Huixian Chinese art