ancient style poetry
Azolla
满江红
Pan Fang
Zhu Shi by Cliff, the spring breeze carries a curtain mountains.
Sand birds, the fishing Qiao and nothing between the customer.
You sleep drunk and calf back, woke up to find Quan Yue Ming pulse.
The mood, Fenfu Longtou cloud, stream stone.
Body is not the old, the first white head.
Were not seen, Mountain Air Bi.
A total of about fishing rod, Zican hook straight.
Wu Shu swallowed into the bottom with something, ru just holds on to Long in the knee.
Long songs, quiet songs strike silently, watching blue wall.
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