Wash the dust, remember the old people, where to find bosom friends in the mountains of flowing water.
Jianghu poems and wine, a hundred years of wind and rain to learn the sea, who asks, before arriving at home the mountain has been white.
After meeting the wind and rain, before the reunion of the wine bottle, it is pitiful to get home.
Thousands of miles of wind and clouds fly everywhere, and a pot of turbid wine does not think of her.
If you don't get home, the lovesickness is endless, and it is difficult to eliminate the hatred in your heart and look for peach blossoms.
You might as well win more friends, be in a foreign country, and Yunya can break your intestines when you get home.
The mood of the guests is refreshing, the wine is strong, where to go home, the ends of the earth to find a trace.
There is no end to the rivers and lakes, and I have come home in my dreams a few times, and I will see the flowers tonight.
Before arriving home, thinking innocently, drinking together, I don't know the guest Jinghua.
The day is in a good mood with the wine, the night is accompanied by the poet's dream, the sea is endless, and the oars are diligent, and the home should be full of court.
I am ashamed of every guest, but I say that wine can be crazy, and I don't need Yunya to be my hometown when I get home.
The joy is endless, not at home, the wine is more than a thousand people are not drunk, and the fragrance is like hemp.
It's been ten years since I got home, and I vaguely met again with a glass of wine in my dream, and the guests still sang the backyard flowers.
People are like jade, bamboo fences are like clouds, and there is no end to learning the sea family when it has begun spring.
The body is like iron, and the wine in the old garden is already after dusk, and the moon is full.
There is no end to thought, I haven't arrived home vaguely, and I don't know where the guests are after three rounds of drinking.
The sun is slanting to the west, looking at the end of the world, the lips are drunk, and the guests are over a thousand flowers.
A glass of village wine is coming back, and there is no end to the oars, and the bitterness is home.
The guest came to ask me what I was like, there was wine to drink, no one was with me, I didn't feel that the day was twilight when I got home, and I saw the clouds on the way back.
Laughing at the end of the world, I haven't arrived home for many years, there is no poetry and empty to the moon, and I don't know who will spend in the guest.
The sun is slanting to the west, the endless sand, people are drunk first, and there are no flying flowers in the guest country.
Wine into Beijing, far away thousands of miles of sand, where is, a bright moon shines home.
Where do guests come without flying flowers, a cup of tea, people are not old, and the east wind is vast and green.
Life and death are endless, there are dreams of leisurely, tonight and a glass of wine, tomorrow will also be on the guest platform.
Don't dare to ask the return date, look at the end of the world people unknown, it is difficult to eliminate the hatred of parting, and it is the full moon in the guest.
The willow bank of the flowing water bridge, the sunset is red, and the grass knows where, only in the loneliness of falling flowers.
The sunset is gone, the flowing water is ruthless and does not return, the falling flowers deliberately pass away with the wind, and the grass will sleep with the moon.
The end of the world is far away, the lonely fallen flowers don't know where to go, and the old light is in the cold pond.
The spring is good in the falling flower season, the greenery is thick, where to find the flowing water and high mountains, and the sunset is red.
The flowing water surrounds the green mountains, a touch of sunset is full of red, the grass is charming and drunk, speechless and tears.
The evening breeze is cool, the flowing water and the mountains are long, go with the waves, and the grass is unintentionally accompanied by the fragrance of the moon.
The flowers fall in the spring of April in the south of the Yangtze River, where to find it, and whose house is it at sunset.
It is desolate, and after the end of the grass world does not know that people go, they will shine on the remnant wall.
There are few acquaintances in the mountains and flowing waters, the sunset on the ancient road is rare, where is the end of the grass, and the falling flowers are speechless and tearful.
The willows are like smoke, the flowing water is ruthless and deliberately disappears with the wind, when will the grass sleep with me.
Thousands of waves of fragrant grass, a tree falling flowers and thousands of miles of wind, where to find flowing water and high mountains, and the sunset is red in the west.
When the flowers fall, the green river is full of green, and the flowing water still shines on the green mountains.
The mountains are each a side, the sunset is green in the west, and the flowers are falling.
The vast reflects the sunset, the mountains and flowing water rhyme are long, and the grass is unintentionally accompanied by the fragrance of dreams.
Blowing in the grassland, falling flowers, mountains and flowing water, there are few bosom friends, and the sunset is in its twilight years.
Another year, the green river is full of water, and the flowing water is ruthless and still shines on the green mountains.
The gurgling stone path is deep, the sunset is untraceable, and there are tear stains in the falling flowers on the ground.
The sunset reflects the sunset, the flowing water surrounds people's homes, and the falling flowers intentionally or unintentionally chase the waves.
The grass is unintentionally hurting, and the flowing water is incomprehensible and the red is accompanied by the sunset.
Sweep away the flowers, the grass reflects the morning glow, the flowing water has few friends, and the evening crow is sent.
The flowing water rhymes for a long time, singing the sunset, and remembering Xiaoxiang in the end of the world.
The sun sets in the west, the road is far away, crossing the small bridge, intentionally going with the wind, and the grass is unintentionally watered by the rain.
The wind blows the grass and the sky is blue, the rain hits the flowers and the ground is red, and the flowing water mercilessly shines in the sunset.
It's spring again, remembering the old people, knowing my mind, and infinitely shining on the red dust.
The small bridge and flowing water willows contain smoke, a touch of sunset red sky, the grass is charming and drunk, and the falling flowers are dancing.
Zheng Huixian Zheng Huixian Chinese art