Song Dynasty lyrics? Are Tang and Song lyrics idioms

Zhao Lingqi "Qingping Le" The spring breeze is still the same, and the intention is to follow the embankment willows. Rub the moth yellow desire, when the weather is clear. Last year's Zimo Qingmen, tonight's rain and cloud soul. Lost a lifetime of haggardness, only a few dusks.

Zhang Yan's "Eight Sounds of Ganzhou" remembers Yuguan stepping on the snow and traveling, and the cold is crisp and mink. The ancient road of the dry forest, the long river drinking horses, this meaning is long. The short dream is still on the river, and the old tears are sprinkled in Xizhou.

There is no title in the word, and the fallen leaves are worried. Take the white clouds and return, and ask who will stay in Chupei and make a shadow of Zhongzhou? Fold the reed flowers and give them away, and they are scattered in autumn.

Flowing water to the ordinary wild bridge, waiting to be recruited is not the old sand gull. There is a sense of emptiness, there is a slanting sun, but I am afraid of going upstairs.

Zhang Yan "Partridge Sky" Who will blow the jade flute upstairs, the water in front of the mountain is wide and the clouds are low. The laborious swallow is thousands of miles, and the pear blossom rain falls. When the repair is near, when the food is sold, the hometown only dreams accompany it. The night came to fold the willows on the river, and it was not Su Di who frowned.

Qin Guan's "Huanxi Sand" is indifferent and cold on the small building, and Xiaoyin is a scoundrel like a poor autumn. The light smoke and flowing water paint the screen. The free flying flowers are as light as a dream, and the boundless rain is as thin as sorrow. The curtain hangs with a small silver hook.

Zhang Yan's "Chaozhongcuo" During the Qingming Festival, the rain was loud, and the tide swarmed the sand. Turning over the pear blossom coldly, life is bitter and in love with the world. Swallow curtain warbler household, cloud window fog pavilion, wine wake up crows. Fold a willow, who will you plug it into?

Yan Jidao "Butterfly Loves Flowers" The limelight is cold, the powder is red, and it becomes a fragrant array every day. The new wine has added to the residual wine and is sleepy, and this spring will not reduce the hatred of the previous spring. The butterfly goes to the warbler and flies nowhere to ask, across the water from the high-rise building, looking at the broken Pisces letter. The disturbed layer waves horizontally - inches, and the slanting sun is only close to dusk.

Liu Yong's "Butterfly Loves Flowers" Leans on the wind of the dangerous building, looking at the extreme spring sorrow, and the gloomy sky. In the afterglow of the grass-colored smoke, there is no one who will rely on his will. I plan to get drunk with a crazy picture, and I sing about wine, and I have no taste for it. The belt gradually widened and did not regret it, and it made people haggard for Yi.

Ouyang Xiu's "Butterfly Loves Flowers" How deep is the courtyard? The willows pile up smoke, and the curtain has no repetition. Yule carved saddle tour smelter, the height of the building does not see Zhangtai Road. The rain and wind are wild in March twilight, the door is covered at dusk, and there is no plan to stay in spring. Tearful eyes asked Huahua silently, and the red flew over the swing.

Yan Jidao "Butterfly Loves Flowers" Drunk don't wake up in the West Building and don't remember, spring dreams and autumn clouds, it's really easy to gather and disperse. The slanting moon and half windows still sleep less, and the painting screen is idle to display Wu Shancui. The words in the poem with wine marks on the clothes, dotted and lined, are always desolate. The red candle has no good plan for self-pity, and the cold night sky weeps for others.

Many, many of them.,If the landlord still wants it.,I have a lot of it.。。。

2.Zhao Caiqing.

Yan Guiliang. There was Yafu in the camp of the willows. The banquet is famous. Song of Solomon, Xu Zuo, throws pots. There is no day without fun.

The king of Han expanded the realm and thought of the famous general, and he wanted to go on the road with the edict. Once upon a time, the secret covenant was in vain. Empty wins, teardrops.

Xin Qiji-"Qingyu Case".

Contents]: The east wind blooms thousands of trees at night, and it blows down, and the stars are like rain.

BMW carved cars are full of fragrance.

The sound of the phoenix flute moves, the light of the jade pot turns, and the fish and dragon dance all night.

The moth snow willow **wisps, the laughter is full of dark fragrance.

The crowd looked for him thousands, and suddenly looked back, but the man was there, and the lights were dim.

Tang and Song lyrics are not idioms, similar words include, Tang poems and Song lyrics, poems and songs, just phrases, not idioms.

Not an idiom. Tang and Song lyrics are words.

Singing: Rear chord.

Three hundred songs are occasionally read by passers-by.

Who hath brought the frost on the ground to my bedside?

Whose face has been lost by reading hard in the cold window.

Lanting has been picked up in front of you.

A blank volume of unannounced hearts.

The inkstone is left with tears and thoughts.

The twenty-four bridges are finally shallow and bright.

The poem that hides his head can't bear to spit goodbye.

Shake off the ash on the pillow.

The tail note still reverberates in my ears.

The hazy moon turns up with you.

The night of the Tang, Song, Yuan, Ming and Qing dynasties.

Hide from who drip a few books of wounds.

We sing softly.

I will sing seven words, and you will count six strings.

Tang, Song and Yuan have said goodbye.

Looking back, the lights are gone.

Only loneliness is loud.

Begonia leaves are on their minds.

The send-off poem is useless.

Far away from the old people.

Tomorrow night rain does not understand.

The light flowers are gone.

It's been a few days of dreaming.

Don't hide your makeup with tears.

Last year, the spring breeze was cut.

The article is lonely and borrows the paper to continue.

The remnant dream revisits the past, and it can't go back to the past.

A song of farewell. Silk and bamboo have been wasted for many years.

Dust four or five cents.

The pen is attached to me to fill in "Xijiang Moon".

The heart of the piano lingers and you sigh "Spring Goes".

Wake up to the beauty of the poem.

The rhyme is tireless, even if it is far away.

The hazy moon turns up with you.

The night of the Tang, Song, Yuan, Ming and Qing dynasties.

Hide from who drip a few books of wounds.

We sing softly.

I will sing seven words, and you will count six strings.

Tang, Song and Yuan have said goodbye.

Looking back, the lights are gone.

Only loneliness is loud.

Millennial jasmine.

After withering, only this elegance is left behind.

The hazy moon turns up with you.

The night of the Tang, Song, Yuan, Ming and Qing dynasties.

Hide from who drip a few books of wounds.

We sing softly.

I will sing seven words, and you will count six strings.

Tang, Song and Yuan have said goodbye.

Looking back, the lights are gone.

Only loneliness is loud (I don't want to miss it again in my life).

The hazy moon turns up with you.

The night of the Tang, Song, Yuan, Ming and Qing dynasties.

Hide from who drip a few books of wounds.

We sing softly.

I will sing seven words, and you will count six strings.

Tang, Song, Yuan, Ming and Qing dynasties must finally say goodbye.

Looking back, the lights are gone.

Only loneliness is loud.

Whose face has been lost by reading hard in the cold window.

Lanting has been picked up in front of you.

A blank volume of unannounced hearts.

The inkstone is left with tears and thoughts.