Hang the dead day, wait for the dawn, the spring is old, and the new leaves are still crying for swings.
The wheat seedlings are scarce, the branches are green and fattening, the butterflies dance, and the flowers and leaves are lush and waiting for the warbler to return.
The cocoon hand traces into a picture scroll, makes a poem, the new sprouts are tender, and the silkworm spits a thousand silk brocades.
The autumn wind sweeps the leaves and draws the silk brocade group, spits out the silkworms in the heart, and the mulberry branches write a new chapter.
The green wheat has been gathered, the silkworm has returned at the beginning, the chrysalis is still there, and the leaves and butterflies are flying.
Silkworms spit out new silk brocade chapters, Mu Chunguang, cocoon butterflies dance flowers and thousands of trees, and Ye Mao warbler sings and rhymes.
The cocoon hand is delicate and delicate, the leaves are like jadeite stamens with smoke, the mulberry branches are used to describe the spring color, and the silkworm chrysalis becomes a silk embroidered brocade.
The green is uneven, the cocoon hand is delicate and silkworm flowers are thousands of wisps, all this mulberry branch.
The spring breeze and green willow and mulberry branches, when the wheat is ripe, the cocoon breaks into thousands of wisps, and the flowers bloom and the leaves are two or three postures.
Vaguely spit out tender silkworms, mulberry branches swaying and dancing, spring breeze and rain urge new cocoons, flowers and splendid days.
The smoke is endless, the leaves are lush and the flowers are multiplying and spring, there is no color, and the silkworms spit out a few new wisps.
The wheat leaves are green and yellow and densely woven into a ball, a thousand kinds of bitterness, turning into thousands of wisps of smoke from mulberry branches.
The willow becomes yin, and the silkworm wheat plows the cocoon in the green and yellow sound, and evokes the spring.
The silkworm sleeps and the wheat is late in spring, the mulberry branches are not green and the warbler cries first, the old farmer goes to the field with cocoon paper, and the cuckoo sound between the leaves is miserable.
The silk is exhausted, and the new sprouts are ready to sprout, and the silkworm chrysalis still loves their hometown.
The flowers are full of charm and long, the silk lotus root is hidden in the broken cocoon, the silkworms spit out the bitterness of lovesickness, and the mulberry branches are fragrant.
When the silkworms spit out and feed in the spring breeze overnight, the cocoon breaks into two or three leaves.
The dead silk is exhausted, turning into a mulberry butterfly and flying thousands of miles, falling into thousands of homes.
The cocoon dances in the sky, the leaves and flowers are red, the vicissitudes of life are more green, and the silk is spit out all over the garden.
The flowers fly for another year, around the heart field, the silkworms vomit all the lovesickness and turn into mulberry branches and thousands of wisps of smoke.
Spit tender yellow, no need to be busy, thousands of roots are deeply cultivated.
Dan's heart turned into a silkworm, the mulberry branch spit out green and had no regrets, and the roots of Ye Mao moved forward forever.
A wisp of sorrow becomes a cocoon, a thousand layers of hatred are a boat, and several vicissitudes of life are not known to death.
Wandering drunk and dreaming under the moon, the empty court is lonely and the sun sets before the steps.
A scoop of wine, self-freedom under the moon, Mo Dao has no confidant, and makes a jade flute.
The old tree does not know the year, before the leaves fall, wandering under the moon to remember the beautiful face.
Life is like a dream before the drunken bottle, reminiscing about the old years, where does the breeze go, and asking Chanjuan about the wine among the flowers.
Idle to play the strings under the moon, drunk and lying among the flowers to remember the youth, lonely empty court in front of the king.
A glass of wine, the shadow is hazy, dancing with the wind, and the peach branches are red.
The courtyard is deep and the bamboo shadow is shaking, the stream in front of the door crosses the stone bridge, the breeze and the moon are under the ** tube, and the drunk lies among the flowers to make Yuxiao.
The small courtyard is lonely in front of the wind, and everyone makes jade Xiao among the flowers under the moon.
The rise is not endless, drunk with the spring breeze, the shadows of the trees in the courtyard are dancing, and the number of red people sitting alone in front of the steps.
Fortunately, there is a bosom friend among the flowers, and there should be no previous life under the moon, and there will be Tingxuan in the dream tonight.
Thousands of autumn colors, thousands of households in front of the lamplight building, Chang'e under the moon is drunk with beauty.
Look at the red, the empty court is lonely and the moon is ** tube, and the dream can't come true.
Dancing and singing, what is the meaning of the flowers, and the flowing water in the empty courtyard of Mo Dao is a song of its own.
I don't remember the year, tonight under the moon, Mo Dao has no confidant, and there is no other day.
In the court, the young man is fishing on the hook, the breeze is blowing, and he is intoxicated.
The song of the phoenix in front of the bottle, the lonely empty court is injured alone, where to send the lovesickness under the moon, and the flowers complain to the shadow.
Dancing under the moon, drunk and lying among the flowers, dreaming and fragrant, the empty courtyard is late in spring, and the swallows in front of the hall are dressing up.
Singing alone, tears, ** tube, looking for a song in a dream.
I don't know before, who is lonely, drunk with you, and think about the flowers tomorrow.
The beauties under the moon are dancing, drunk and red-faced, who accompanies them, only the lonely light does not move forward at night.
A few times the dream lingers under the moon between the flowers, the previous life may be a lovesick debt, and the present world is empty for another year.
The branches of the old trees are hanging, the water surface of the stream in front of the door flows, and the people who drink alone do not sleep, and the flowers are hard to drink.
The children in front of the hall laughed and laughed, leaning on the railing, where to send the moon lovesickness, and the flowers were drunk and dreaming.
Wandering alone under the moon, walking among the flowers is uncontrollable, the shadows of the trees in the courtyard move with the wind, and the night is deep without seeing the predecessors.
The heart is drunk, the coconut wind is cool, and the music and poetry are endowed, and the waves are surging and green.
Looking at the Longmen tide and letters, the waves are endless, the vicissitudes of life are difficult to grow old, and the first worry is my home.
First to the savage's house, the vast expanse of waves at a glance, the mountains are far away to the sky and the sea, near the sunset side sand.
Zheng Huixian Zheng Huixian Chinese art