Unrested, not sorrowful, chanting poems is like a song urging whitehead.
Urging people to have two sideburns, poetry and painting are often accompanied by the breeze drunk, and confidants meet and smile.
The unpaid effort is exhausted, and it is difficult to predict the year, and the wine glass is never easy to accompany.
The confidant in the turbid wine glass is in tears, and the autumn breeze is bleak and poetic, like the old years.
In the dream, the frequent words are strong, the immortal spring is permanent, and the trees are red.
After every spring rain, in the dream soul, the wine glass frequently meets the drunken evening breeze.
The poetic heart has been old, the gray hair is new, and the past is poured in the cup, but the confidant is not poor.
The wine glass does not need to stay drunk, the confidant of life is not contradictory, and the spring breeze is a night of poetry.
Yin Fengyue, drunk and red-faced, true feelings, whip don't wait.
The years urge people to decline their temples, chant poems and paint leisurely, wine glasses are frequently raised, and confidants meet and laugh.
The poem sends geese to urge people to fall asleep late, and Mo Dao's wine glass confidants are lovesick.
The moonlight is cold, tears are pouring down, the wind urges the fallen leaves to follow the flowing water, and a poetic heart sends a distant sail.
Confidants meet and don't know each other, wine glasses are frequently raised to express their hearts, and the wind and rain urge the horse's hooves.
The willow silk hangs, the swallow puts the mud into the painting poem, and the confidant comforts the acacia in the turbid wine glass.
Treading the waves, the spring breeze and rain frequently invite the bright moon, full of joy.
Into the wine glass, when will the confidant return, and the poetry of the ruthless years will accompany the snow.
Often accompanied, don't make the wine glass have its own true feelings, and the wind urges the sideburns and snow.
The autumn wind urges me to chant poetry is not lonely, and the wine glass invites the moon to drink, calling each other.
Spring is full of poetry, urging the peach blossoms to bloom full of branches, and I want to invite the wine glass to drink to the moon, but my confidant has become an idiot.
The inkman raised his glass, his confidants got drunk a few times, ruthlessly urged gray hair, and the poetry world was fortunate to meet good talents.
The sky is against the moon, the bottle is poured together, all are good friends, not a red face is also moving.
Under the hero's tears, drunk on the bright moon, fragrant snow sea, flowers and red faces are haggard.
A plum through the ages, for whom to open, lovesick and bitter, poured out their hearts into dreams.
The red face and thin life flowers bloom a few springs, and they will never regret it, and the wine glass is empty to the broken intestines.
The spring in the cup is strong, the love is drunk and smiling calmly, the second fragrance is the same, and the red face is only for winter.
The spring breeze of the night is poured over the trees, smiling and greeting, the plum is as fragrant as before, and the face is not seen in vain.
Rich flowers bloom Mei Ruiyan, red face sighs for the passing years, the wine glass does not understand the lovesickness, and pours out all the heart.
The two phases urge, how many things are in the world of plum blossoms in the snow, wandering on the moon.
The literati and inkmen raised their wine glasses, drunk a thousand times, and welcomed the spring for the second time, and they didn't see the red face only for whom.
When they meet in a heart, the wine glass frequently raises their words to bosom friends, Meilan, Zhuju and chrysanthemum all become friends, and the red face sings ancient and modern.
Mei Ying is thin, why not dream and be old, when the moon is bright, and smile at the flowers.
Since ancient times, the red face and the crane are suitable, the end of the world is in tears, and there is thought in the turbid wine glass.
There is no need to urge, the people have gone when they meet Huang, waiting for you to come.
In a smile when the lid is poured, the wine glasses and poems are in the west and east, the plum willows in the south of the Yangtze River should be unharmed, and Mo Dao's red face is always empty.
Another spring, red faces and white hair frequently invite the bright moon, and poetry and rhyme are drunk with beauty.
The red face cannot be chased, a lone plum in the snow, pouring love for the news of spring, and acacia pays the wine glass.
You don't have to get drunk a thousand times in the wind, and you can bring snow to the brace twice.
The heart is pouring into the jade cup, and there is no chrysanthemum on the railing, where is it now, in loneliness.
Renchen Rui is cold in the snow, with red face and white hair and tears, full of lovesickness, and the poems are lonely.
Pouring the liver and gallbladder, talking about the past and the present, the years ruthlessly urge gray hair, and the poems are intended to write Dan's heart.
The snow is silent, the moonlight is bright, and the grass is green and green in the bustling barren mounds.
Towering into the sky, the cliff wind is soothing for thousands of years, and the sound of the waves is still roaring in the sky.
In the season, the rain is long, the green mountains enter the gallery, and the clouds are light and the sky is high, and the fragrance of rice flowers is high.
The clouds are light, the sky is high, the chrysanthemums are yellow, and the maple leaves of Weipo Chang'e fall to their hometown.
Proud of the snow, wrapped in dark incense, frequently inviting the bright moon, drunk and full of arms.
The white-haired mirror is old, the snow is fragrant, and the tea cup for the rest of his life is full of vicissitudes.
The rise of bold wine glass poems, the fragrance of ink, and the bamboo chrysanthemums are all good friends, living up to the red face.
The heart of the ice is poured into a jade pot, the turbid wine glass is drunk, and the snow is accompanied by plum blossoms until dawn.
Thousands of miles of incense, drunk thousands of homes, pour the years, and send the world.
Where is the white hair and red face, when will the plum wife and crane return, and the most affectionate is after dusk, and the wine glass is half bent in the middle of the moon.
Zheng Huixian Zheng Huixian Chinese art