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Song Xi

[Introduction] the withered vines and old trees are always rustling. The Endless River often wraps the bridge, and the tired old horse walks on the Xianyang ancient road. Yuan bow Moon, cavalry destroys Jiangnan er shi si qiao. Close the bridle, hide the bow knife, and swing straight to Chang’an Road.

Holding a long bamboo Wormwood, full of the ship Starlight, wandering in thousands of years, but unable to walk out of the reeds on the water side; Carrying heavy bags, walking through the heavy desolation of Lisao, I have been involved in the desert and solitary smoke of Tang and Song poems, and the wind has gone through the hengtang, but I can’t walk out of the vast expanse of animal husbandry and wild land. I sang with the turtledoves of Guan Guan, and pursued the beautiful image, but I can’t walk out of this cup of wind and elegance. Singing the joy of men and women, expressing the frost on the ground, sighing the rise and fall of the ages, a river of poetry is rolling. A white horse came from Cao Zhi’s poems and poems, and the young wind-chasing man was full of high spirits. He bent over and spread his horseshoe, and raised his hand to pick up the flying horse; He Lan Mountain was not broken, and his ambition was hard to pay for hunger and blood, eight thousand Road clouds and moon. Yue Fei sighed bitterly, the hero rushed to the Crown, and the courtiers hated it, but it still didn’t snow; A paper of books on the bus moved the world, and the students were still generous. The Autumn Wind and autumn rain even touched the world, and it was rustling. The liver and gall are just like the crystal and Jade Kunlun Mountain. I smile to the sky with my sword. The praises of heroes can never be sung, and the sound of Hu Jia makes people old. The smoke bursts, and the years are surging. It is said that there is no clothes, and I am in the same robe with my son. A pool of reeds was gently enveloped by smoke, and a beautiful woman’s long hair fluttered. The downstream has passed thousands of mountains, and the upstream always feels that the road is all the way. I am the only one who knows your singing; The female Luo led by Xue Lixi threw the mountain flowers with her hands, the graceful figure is full of enchanting things that make you move. If you don’t take a bus or a sedan chair, the flying mount is the red leopard. The wind was rustling and the wood was rustling, and she smiled at you in the mountain. The name of the mountain ghost was too much for you; I wanted to know the king because of evil, and my life would never fade. There are always those immortal birds in the world, which are connected at the root of the Earth and fly in the sky. Unknowingly, when the Willow Tip was light green, he regretted to teach his husband to find a public waiting. The yellow flowers all over the floor were shocked. For whom do you stare at all day long? A Book of Three Hundred Songs in the Book of Songs writes all about desolation and gentleness. What can’t be written is the exquisite smile and beautiful look, and what can’t be written is the river where the water goes around the birds. The withered vines and old trees were always rustling. The endless rivers often circled the small bridge, and the tired old horse walked on the Xieyang ancient road. Yuan bow Moon, cavalry destroys Jiangnan er shi si qiao. Close the bridle, hide the bow knife, and swing straight to Chang’an Road. The blade pierces the neat and preciseness of Tang people’s verses, and the long barrettes also tie up the elegance and implication of Song poetry. It can be adjusted, dispersed, sung and endowed, but it can not escape from the graceful lady thousands of years ago. Confucius said that poems can be popular, viewed, grouped, and resentful. We can be asked to shake gently on this river which runs through ancient and modern times. Blue Clouds, yellow leaves. The autumn colors are continuous, and the cold smoke and green autumn colors on the waves are all over the sky, covering the yellow flowers and thousands of miles of smoke waves, but not the peach blossoms coming from ancient times; I am only afraid that Shuangxi will sail on the boat, I can’t hold a lot of worries. A boat could not hold the full sorrow, nor could it hold the beauty of thousands of years like soft hands and condensed fat. Fu bixing was Qu Yuan’s earthshaking soul-calling song; It was Li Bai’s flying straight down three thousand feet, and it was suspected that the Galaxy fell nine days. It is just like the spring breeze in the night that CEN can see that thousands of trees and pears bloom. It is my luminous cup full of fine wines. Sing, give, make a cup of good tea. My thoughts drifted thousands of miles away, but the fence of 300 hundred books of songs could not float out. The master said: If you don’t learn poetry, you can’t say anything. 2011-1-22

[Responsible editor: Ke Er]]

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