To lay the first white Xiangshan, autumn wind and sub-flowing of water off the city.
Seeing things such as empty, not a thing Yunmeng chest.
Origin of single-day lift home drunk, and poetry into a comb were climbing in Vientiane.
No matter when everyone Yusha, the river late at night listening to the lute.
Hu Jia words woman and children, such as the book tears rain wet Pathetic.
The public for less ye mad dream, drifting with the World Ju Seoul chat.
I came to the public after three hundred years, Xunyang has no orchestral.
Chang but not left lonely sound, still sweeping Hong Lu Cui days.
三峡堂前五月风,吴樯蜀柁古来通。
山如肺附重相掩,水似环连去不穷。
跃马孤城怜倔强,卧龙八阵想英雄。
凭阑千载兴亡事,何异邯郸一枕中。