Cheng Mengshan s ancient poem Kumei translation? Translated several ancient poems

Tianping Mountain Baiyun Spring is so quiet and quiet, the white clouds in the sky flutter with the wind, and they roll freely; The spring water on the mountain is murmuring, and it is calm. I asked the spring, since you are so leisurely here, why do you want to rush down the mountain and add fuel to the troubled world?

Hidden in the mountains and forests, accompanied by floating clouds and flowing water.

Don't go into the world, sing a getaway.

I often do it alone in the bamboo forest. While playing the piano. While looking up to the sky, Changsu was sued. No one in the bamboo forest knows everything about me. There is only one bright moon with me.

The original poem is: Life has no roots, floating like a strange dust. Scattered and wind-by-wind, this is not the case. Landing as brothers, why bother with flesh and blood! Have fun and drink and gather next to each other. If the golden year does not come again, it will be difficult to regain the morning in one day. Be encouraged in time, and the years will not treat others.

Life has no roots, and the translation of floating like dust is: Life in the world is like a tree without roots, a flower without a stem, without a landing, without roots, and like dust drifting with the wind on the road.

At the beginning of life's literacy troubles, you can take a break from memorizing your name. ——From the beginning of life to read and write, sorrow and suffering will come with it, as long as you can know and remember your own name.

Life without a goal is like dust falling on the ground, swaying;

In life, through learning, you will understand the beginning of trouble.

If there is no pursuit and no goal in life, it will be as erratic as the dust on the hillside.

It is only when people begin to know how to learn knowledge that they begin to understand adversity.

Life is like dust on the road, without roots and guati.

When life begins to read and think, it begins to experience sorrows.

There is no fixed place in life, just like dust floating on the ground.

As soon as people know how to read, they begin to have troubles.

People in the world write poems about plum blossoms, and they look tacky when they put pen to paper. I tried to write one, only to realize that the previous words were not nonsense.

People in the world write poems about plum blossoms, and when they start writing, they seem mundane. I tried to write a poem (poem) and realized that what I said earlier (a poem about plum blossoms is difficult to write) was true (without deceiving my ears).

May 21 tour of Yuantong Temple[1].

The sun is harmonious, and the wind and rain are clear. The mountain light contains the shadow of the palace, and the bird language is pleasant. The ancient bricks are new grass, and the dangerous rocks are old and leaning on the city. The old monk stayed and sat quietly, cooking tea and talking without dust.

Qingxu is a light in the sky, and he once shines on the makeup of the women of Handan Palace. Looking back at the thorns in the cong platform, Cui'e has no shadow and chaos in the cold pond.

In March and May of three or five years, the poor glass of wine never went away.

In late autumn, the wild apes on the riverside are melancholy on a moonlit night, and the abrupt peaks are whitened against the background of frost and mist.

The sentence is written in this sentence and Qingxi is not Longshui, translated as a broken intestine.