Who has good poems and good words, and those few poems for me to enjoy?

Nanxiangzi Feng Yansi.

The drizzle is wet, and the grass grows with hatred every year. The smoke lock Fenglou is infinite and boundless. Luan mirror and mandarin duck two broken intestines. The soul dream is melodious, and he sleeps on the Yang Huaman embroidery bed. Bo Xing didn't come to the door to half-hide, the sun. Bear you a few lines of tears.

Nanxiangzi Qin Guan.

Wonderful handwriting Huizhen, water scissors eyes dotted lips. It is suspected that it is a peep at Song Yu in the past, and it is adjacent to the east. Only half of the wall is exposed. The past has been bitter, who remembers Cui Daifeng back then? There are some hateful places in the end, ruthless. Ren is ruthless and moving!

Yi Hu Zhu Li Yu.

After the first makeup, Shen Tan made some light injections. Reveal the cloves to people. A song, temporarily lead the cherry to break. Luo sleeves can be remnant, and the cup is deeply swirled by the fragrant mash. The embroidery bed is oblique and delicate. chewed the red mushrooms and smiled at Tan Lang.

Surfing the sand. The rain is murmuring outside the curtain, and the spring is beautiful.

Luo Ji is not tolerant of the five colds.

In my dream, I didn't know that I was a guest, and I was greedy for joy.

Alone without relying on the column, infinite rivers and mountains, it is easy to see when it is difficult to see.

Flowing water and flowers go in spring, heaven and earth.

Phoenix Song of the Qin.

There are beauties, never forget when you see them, you don't see them for a day, and you think about them like crazy. The phoenix flies and flies, seeking the phoenix from all over the world, but the helpless beauty is not in the east wall. The piano will be used as a substitute for words, talk about the heartfelt heart, and be willing to match virtue and join hands with each other.

When you see Xu Xi, comfort me and wander, don't fly away, make me fall, make me fall.

Forehead. I made it up myself. See smiled:

Rain flowers groan. The flowers bloom and the branches are pretty, and the drizzle drenches the spring garden. [I've been thinking about whether to use "spring" or "autumn" here

Red is dotted with thin silver, is it with fragrant tears?

Good poems and good words are as follows:

1, Jiangchengzi Mizhou hunting - Su Shi Song Dynasty

The old man chatted about the boyish madness, the left led Huang, the right Qingcang, the brocade hat and mink Qiu, and the dry riding rolled Pinggang. In order to repay the city, follow the Taishou, shoot the tiger in person, and watch Sun Lang. The wine is still open.

Sideburns are slightly creamy, so what's the matter! In the clouds, when will Feng Tang be sent? Will hold the bow like a full moon, look northwest, and shoot the wolf.

2. Xijiang Moon, Night Walk in Huangsha Road - Xin Qijian Song Dynasty

The bright moon is not frightening, and the breeze chirps cicadas in the middle of the night.

The fragrance of rice flowers says that there is a good year, and the sound of frogs is heard.

Seven or eight stars in the sky, two or three points of rain in front of the mountain.

In the old days, on the edge of the forest of the Maodian Society, the road turned to the river bridge and suddenly saw it.

3. Linjiang Immortal, Rolling Yangtze River East Passing Water - Yang Shen Ming Dynasty

The rolling Yangtze River is passing away, and the waves are sweeping away the heroes. Success or failure turns empty. The green mountains are still there, and the sunset is red several times.

On the white-haired fisherman Jiangzhu, accustomed to watching the autumn moon and spring breeze. A pot of turbid wine is happy to meet. How many things in ancient and modern times are laughing and talking.

This is a historical poem, which expresses the emotion of life by narrating the rise and fall of history, bold and subtle, high-pitched and profound.

4, Linjiang Immortal, Send Money Mu Father - Su Shi Song Dynasty

One other door changed the fire three times, and the end of the world stepped on the red dust. Still smiling as spring warmth. There is no wave of the real ancient well, and there is a festival of autumn yun.

The melancholy lonely sail was sent overnight, sending off the light moon and clouds. Don't use your eyebrows before honoring. Life is like a reverse journey, and I am also a pedestrian.

The drizzle hid the deep alley.

Moss green slate.

Cooking cigarettes roll away.

If the mist is thick.

Yangguan is not a hometown.

The west wind thanked the flowers.

The ancient road is far away from the border pass.

The remnant sun dyed red yesterday.

If Nanyan returns.

The ideal is still far away.

How I miss that afternoon.

There is a lazy trembling sunshine and you.

The breeze is accompanied by a faint fragrance.

The water wave boy and the defeat rippled with it.

I packed my bags.

Look into the unknown distance and talk to you.

I'm leaving. The maple leaves are red and light.

The wild goose is close and far.

I wish someone could tell me.

The end of the road is at **.

Until the sale. Your message is here.

Whisper. Han) Gao Yin.

It's raining. I sat at the table.

The table whispered.

A long time ago, I was a flower, a leaf, a branch.

It once meandered to the end of the desert.

Roots deep in the depths of the oasis.

Said the small piece of iron on the table.

I was the little tongue of a lone wolf who howled on a moonlit night.

The rain stopped. I walked outside the door.

The drenched little blue grass said to me.

Once upon a time, I was your joy, sorrow, and sorrow.

Your life ballads.

as well as dreams. It was my turn to speak.

to the desk. to small pieces of iron.

To the dirt Once upon a time, I was you, you and you.

Now I am you, you and you.

Sweat. People who have never sweated.

Doomed to be empty-handed.

Not to mention the truth of the scent of freshly cut grass.

My lover said it.

The feeling after sweating.

It's fresher than crying to your heart's content.

The world is freshened.

A little bit of Gu Cheng's naivety. Skillful in language, beautiful, fluent, clear and simple. Many poems read like a vernacular, revealing care and love for people, and contain surprisingly profound philosophies.