ancient style poetry
Spring Palace
汉宫春
Zhao Ruguang
The breaking load of clothing, laughing West wind me, and down the West Lake.
Lake between the old drinker, with whom all this.
Mountain tapes, it may bring, the picture re-Shu.
Ten miles, Lotus-step barrier, still catching red Tsui.
No stay at a clear head, any house floating in heaven, the body _set_ empty.
Residue burning sun_set_ over goose, little sparse.
Enemy boss, a good open-minded, no abatement.
Slow win, Qiusheng ears, Cold Spring Tingxia donkey.
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