Enjoy Liu Yong s watercolor painting Shibaozhai three other poems .

Mondo Culture Updated on 2024-02-27

Enjoy Liu Yong's watercolor painting "Shibaozhai" (three other poems).

Li Zhefu. A verdant mountain, and the village on the peak is very tall.

In the past, it was accompanied by mountains and waters, and crossed the nine heavens.

The current Jiangxin Island is not anyone's heart.

The pearl on the river, the painter's fashionable Bifeng stretches to the north bank of the river.

Chungju, a historical story of the city of Liu.

Upstairs and downstairs, overlapping like a ladder.

A painting retains a memory, and today's embankment guards.

A piece of color, a piece of wood, shows how glorious it was and how long it was.

A footstep, a wave, a whistle.

The enlightenment has long jumped out of the idea of splashing waves.

It's like the Yangtze River rushing for thousands of miles.

The sound of whistles coming and going, the sound of another kind of reverberation.

Face the Potala Palace

The Potala Palace has 10,000 houses in the night.

Shine into space.

Once crossed, I don't know who else is waiting on the lotus orb.

With one hand, the prayer wheel is kept rocking.

Panting, overlapping the tendoned feet again and again.

Stone steps, bow your head and look up, one step at a time.

Monks on the stairs.

The sacred temple is on the top of the staircase.

Outside of time and space, the deep ** is like a meridian.

Level 1, upward, up every day.

The east and west halls of the sun are closed.

The one was dressed in a red robe.

The lama wearing a yellow cockscomb hat was there.

Calm Shen Yun like a door god:

The space has been decided, and all living beings are dark horses.

Snow in the Niseri Mountains

A snowfall sprinkled around Tashilhunpo Monastery.

The sparse grass of the Niseri Mountains.

It's always a drought look.

The snow gilds the words engraved on the prayer wheel with a layer of silver.

The chanting sound was round, and the Mani stone was polished.

A heart that prays for blessings.

It's as if a pot of boiling water melts the snow.

There is a proverb: the snow has no trace, no matter the heart.

Take refuge, regardless of the size of the Buddha's door.

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