There is no separation of sad poetry, to be smooth

The mist is thick and the clouds are sad for eternity. Rui Brain Gold Killer. The festive season is chongyang, the jade pillow yarn kitchen, the middle of the night is cool and the beginning is penetrating. The east fence put the wine after dusk. There are dark fragrance sleeves. Mo Dao does not kill the soul, the curtain is swept by the west wind, and the person is thin like a yellow flower.

Grass chirp. Stunned sycamore. The world is full of sorrow in the heavens.

The clouds and the moon are locked thousands of times. Float up, float away, don't meet. Xingqiao magpie driving, I have only seen it after many years, I want to leave love, don't hate it.

Morning glory and weaver girl, don't be out of the middle. It was sunny, rainy, and windy.

Who planted a banana tree in front of the window, and the shade filled the atrium. The atrium is full of shade. Ye Ye is hearty, and Shu Juan has more feelings. Sad pillow on the three more rain, dripping rain. A little bit of rain. Worried about the northerners, they are not used to listening.

Spring to Nagato spring grass green. Jiang Mei is broken, not evenly opened. The blue cloud cage grinds the jade into dust. Stay in the dream, and break a spring. Flower shadow presses the door. The curtain is spread out in the light moon, and it is good at dusk. Lost Dongjun three times in two years. I also returned, and I wanted to spend this spring.

The waiting hall is plum-remnant, the stream bridge is thin, and the grass is smoky and the wind is warm. Drifting away from sorrow is becoming endless. The journey is like spring water. Inch by inch soft intestines, full of tears, the height of the building is not close to the danger of leaning. At the end of Pingwu is Spring Mountain, and pedestrians are even outside Spring Mountain.

This is one of my favorite sad poems.

Autumn Wind Words Li Bai.

The autumn breeze is clear, the autumn moon is bright, the fallen leaves gather and disperse, and the jackdaws are frightened.

I know when I see each other, and I am embarrassed at this night;

Enter my lovesick door, know that I am lovesick, long-term lovesickness, long-term memory, short-term lovesickness is infinite, I knew that it was so stumbling, how could I not know each other at the beginning.

Butterflies love flowers

The city is desolate, the blue weeping dew, the decaying grass and the remnant sun, and the sand embankment road. Lonely outside the sky goes to a distant place. The other side of the cold river is covered with light fog. ­

How much does it hurt to part? How can I feel sad, recruiting guests to go wrong, and it is difficult to leave tears and endure the review. There are two or three trees faintly in front of you.

Su curtain covers the willow smoke and cold, and the Chu River water. The afterglow is slanting westward, and the cold of spring retreats. The secluded path connects the sky and the green mountains. The breeze was bleak, but the pedestrians were still there. ­

Leaning in front of the window, reminiscing. There is no plan to clear, and the building is drunk by the railing. Where is the meeting in the dream? A little sorrowful? Wake up and remember each other.

Butterfly love flowers, red blows down, water dissolves. It's a pity that the remnants are in a hurry, how much sadness is the spring? The swallow wanders with no way back, looking at the scenery of the township. ­

The willow outside the oblique red residual reflection. The smoke and water are thick, and the river is awake. Yangguan is a broken intestine, and Xiao Suojiang City is twilight.

Don't Xue Hua Wang Bo.

Sent into the multi-divergent road, let alone alone.

Thousands of miles of desolation, a hundred years of sadness.

The heart is drifting together, and the life is hard and hard.

Whether you go or live, you are a dreamman.

Farewell poem: The willows are hanging on the ground, and the poplars are flying in the sky.

The wicker is broken and the flowers are gone, and the pedestrians are asked if they will return. Seek adoption.

In Liu Yong's "Yulin Bell": Affectionate parting since ancient times, how can it be ignored in the Qingqiu Festival.

Surfing the sand. Last night, the west wind was tight, and yellow flowers were all over the ground. The afterglow is smoky and cold, and the deciduous sycamore locks the autumn, and the vicissitudes of life are easy.

This morning's dew is condensing, and the courtyard is empty. The dew weeps and the frost forest is lonely, and the tears are sprinkled with tears, and the years are difficult to return.

Mulberry picking. Looking back at the blind scum West Lake, the flowers are falling, the maple forest is dyed, and the tenderness is drunk and red.

The oblique light grinds quietly and shines on the blue birds, and in the Jiuhua tent, the soul is frightened and nightmare, and this heart is the same as the old man.

Flounder. I love your look back.

Smile like a flower. Northwest side plug.

Cast the silver core and shout the bell laughter.

The riverside of the raccoon.

Reflecting the face of the city.

Thoughts follow in your footsteps.

Spread into the distance.

The smell of orange stems fills the air.

Like the inexplicable taste of lovers.

The Pledge becomes a memory.

It's just a lie.

Tears are detached.

Missing is the way to part.

Tomorrow - there will be silence silence.

Surfing the sand. Last night, the west wind was tight, and yellow flowers were all over the ground. The afterglow of the smoke is cold and the cicada is cut, the deciduous sycamore locks the autumn, and the vicissitudes of life change the degree of excavation.

This morning's dew is condensing, and the courtyard is empty. The dew weeps and the frost forest is lonely, and the tears are sprinkled with tears, and the years are difficult to return.

Mulberry picking. Looking back at the West Lake, the flowers are falling, the maple forest is dyed, and the tenderness is drunk and red.

The oblique light is still shining on the blue birds, and in the Jiuhua tent, the soul is frightened and nightmare, and this heart is the same as the old man.

They are all written by themselves, and they are made for their lovers.

"Flowing Water" of the Funeral Flower Chi Fan

Falling flowers, flowing water.

The break is the intention and the shape has faded, and I want to shed tears, but I can't do it.

Sincerely scold Nianshan with the will of heaven.

but not weep.

The past and the present see the edge.

But there is no chance to win the fate.

Heaven is not merciful. Forgotten.

What does it mean to reproduce? Waving goodbye.

Don't, don't.

My friend. Back to it.

Remember my eyes.

Tonight I turned wine into tears.

Commemorate what we once had.

Don't cry. Don't cry.

My friend. Wave your hands.

Please go away in style.

Continue to greet the dawn of the broken ruler.

There is a feeling called Heaven and Earth, but only skin for a long time.