Poems by Li Qingzhao and Lu You, 10 poems by the Southern Song Dynasty poet Lu You.

A bunch of flower fairies are unparalleled in the sky, and the jade-faced emerald moth is long. Huang Ting's heart is like water when he reads, he closes his household, he is sad about the silk spring, the window is bright and clean, he is idle in the Tang Dynasty, and he is deeply incense.

There is no medicine in the world, and the wind and rain are cold. When we meet, we talk about the old capital, sigh at the catastrophe, life and death. How to accompany me, green and green, fishing in the autumn evening.

Bu Operator Post outside the broken bridge, lonely and ownerless. It was already dusk and I was alone, and it was even more windy and rainy.

has no intention of fighting for spring, and a group of people are jealous. Scattered into mud and dust, only fragrant as before.

Go up to the West Building (a meeting party).

The head of the river is dark and red, and the swallows are flying. Suddenly to the place where he was back then, hatred is still there.

Shed tears, sigh people, contrary to the heart. Drink the jade pot flower dew and send the spring back.

The Great Holy Music turned thunder and thunder, and sighed to himself, forty-two years. Thinking about the past, nothingness is like a dream, joys and sorrows, scattered like smoke. The bitter sea is boundless, the river of love is bottomless, and the wandering is seen as a hundred leaky boats. Who understands, ask impermanence in the fire, iron beats the body.

In a moment, it is Hua Dian. It's good to pack up and get back to nature. Why do you need to care, ask for the field, be born and be a eunuch, and die to be famous. Life and poverty, right and wrong, honor and disgrace, the origin of this matter is in heaven. From now on, let the east, west, north and south, be a flying immortal.

In peacetime, the bamboo room is a deep path, and it is quiet. The red flies all over the green into the shade, and there are songbirds.

There was nothing to do in the Lan Pavilion, and he practiced the piano by himself. The copper furnace sinks in the south, washing the dust.

Moon begonia. The Zhu Gate of the Xieyang Waste Garden is closed. Hanging the rise and fall, the tears of hatred. The faint palace plum is still, and the crispy cut water is still a little crispy. The sorrowful place seems to recall the old things of Xuanhua.

Pedestrians don't have a sense of desolation. Fold the fragrance, who and send thousands of miles. Standing in Jianggao, it is rare to meet, and Longtou returns to ride. The sound dust is far away, and Chutian is leaning alone.

Moon begonia. Lanfang embroidery households are tired of disease. Sigh and wake up when you are bored. The swallow returned empty, and several times it was passed on, and the Yuguan side letter was written. Sad, the independent exhibition group is ruijin.

The smoke cage is cold and cold. The tears are deep, and the flowers are turned to see the shadows. Embracing the lingering fragrance, how can you forbid him, cold and lonely. The west window dawned, and a few silver bottles of jade wells.

The moon shines on the pear blossoms. The scenery is soft, and the Yanjiang River is rising in spring. There is no one in the small together, and the embroidered curtain is half-up. Sisters outside the flowers call each other, about the calamus.

Xiu Moth forgot about the chapter, thought about it carefully, and felt melancholy. The chest crisp arm jade is reduced, and it is intended to look for Pisces, and Qian passes on the book.

The moon shines on the pear blossoms. Stuffiness has been damaged, and it is a lot of sickness. A few songs of Ping Mountain, accompanied by people day and quiet. Liang Yan urged him to be lazy and changed the smoking cage.

When will the new sorrow and old hatred end, the green sideburns will gradually wither, and the light rain will know the flower letter. Where to send the note, embroidered pavilion beads, in the willow shade.

Magnolia has been living on Bashan Road for three years, and her green shirt is full of dust. The body is like a cloud in the west, and he is worried about Qu Tang and closing the grass.

Chunpan spring wine is good every year, try to wear silver flags and judge drunk. Today, everyone is one year old, not that the world favors me to be old.

Yes, there are too many works by Lu You.

The most famous is the hairpin head phoenix...

I remember learning a "Song of the Thatched House Broken by the Autumn Wind" when I was in school, but I don't remember if it was him.

More than 4,900 songs.

Shi'er, appealing to the heart, visiting Shanxi Village, etc.

Show your child, appeal to your heartfelt feelings.

If you go to a bookstore and check that elementary school students must memorize seventy ancient poems.

The song of the thatched hut being broken by the autumn wind was written by Du Fu.

Too much. Lu You has written more than 40,000 poems in his life!

There's a lot of it in this, you see.