Poet: Zhao Ji
燕山亭 燕山亭
Ice cutting raw silk, the number of stacked light weight, cool Yan fat absorbed attention. New kind of dressed up, Yan Yi Xiang Rong, shame to kill Ruizhu ladies. Easy to get dying, more less, merciless wind and rain. Sorrow. Q bleak courtyard, repeated spring evening. Send Lihen by heavy, that Shuangyan ever will be one language? Days away to far, the great lakes to the Forbidden City where he knows? How can one think about? In addition to the dream, sometimes to go. No data. And dreams, and sometimes do. |