Describing pastoral life or natural scenery.

Luchai: there seems to be no one on the empty mountain, but it's heard. The shadow of the setting sun came into deep forest, and the landscape was pleasant on the moss.

Xinyiwu: hibiscus flowers with minced wood and red calyx in the mountains. There are no people in the stream, and they have started to fall.

Autumn in a Mountain Residence: after rain the empty mountain, stands autumnal in the evening. The bright moon sprinkled the clear light from the gap, clearing the fountain on the rocks. The bamboo forest is loud and clear, the laundry girl comes back, the lotus leaf jiggle want to go up and down the canoe. The spring of spring may wish to let it rest, in autumn the hills of the sun can stay long.

In Birding Stream, people are idle and sweet-scented osmanthus falls, and the night is quiet and the mountains are empty. When the moon comes out, it surprises the mountain birds, and when it sounds in the spring stream.

a Farm-house on the Wei River: in the slant of the sun on the country-side, cattle and sheep trail home along the lane. And a rugged old man in a thatch door, leans on a staff and thinks of his son, the herdboy. There are whirring pheasants? full wheat-ears, silk-worms asleep, pared mulberry-leaves. Hojo, Fu Tian, hail one another familiarly. No wonder I long for the simple life, disappointed songs are fading.

Tian Jiaxing

Author: Wang Jian

Yan Yue, a male voice, people don't complain about words.

In May, although the wheat was hot and the wind was clear, the eaves screamed.

the wild silkworm is not taken as a cocoon, and the autumn moth is born among the leaves.

when the wheat is harvested, the silk is on the axis, and the knowledge is lost.

don't look at the entrance to restore your upper body, and don't sell yellow calves to the city.

Tian's family is well fed and clothed, so it's a pleasure not to see the county gate!

Zhang Ji of wild old songs

The old farmer lives in the mountains and cultivates three or four acres of mountains and fields.

You can't eat much of the seedling tax. If you enter the official warehouse, it will be turned into soil.

at the end of the year, hoe and plow the empty room, and shout to climb the mountain to collect acorns.

Xijiang Jiake beads a hundred hugs, raising dogs in the boat and eating meat.

Nie Yizhong's wounded family

sells new silk in February, and

mows new grain in May.

cure the sore in front of your eyes, but

gouge out your heart.

I wish the king's heart

turned into a bright candle.

not according to the Kirara banquet,

according to the escape room.

Guantian Author: Wei Yingwu

After a light rain, many flowers are new, and a thunder begins to sting.

Tian Jia has a few days off, so farming begins.

ding Zhuang is in the wild, so the nursery is reasonable.

when you come back, you will have a quiet time and drink the water from the west stream.

hunger is not self-suffering, but it is pleasing to the eye.

there is no shelter in the warehouse, and the corvee is not finished yet.

if you are ashamed of not plowing, you will reap the rewards.

The widow in the mountain

Tang Du Xunhe

Her husband clung to Pengmao because of the soldiers, and her clothes were burnt.

mulberry leaves come to Judah to pay taxes, and the rural shortage is still seeking seedlings.

when picking wild vegetables and roots, cook them, and stir-fry raw leaves of firewood.

if you are deeper in the mountains, you should also have no plan to avoid the levy.

a Farm-house on the Wei River Wang Wei

in the slant of the sun on the country-side, cattle and sheep trail home along the lane.

and a rugged old man in a thatch door, leans on a staff and thinks of his son, the herdboy.

pheasant and wheat seedling show, silk-worms asleep, pared mulberry-leaves.

Hojo, Fu Tian, hail one another familiarly.

no wonder I long for the simple life, and am sighing the old song, Oh, to go Back Again!.

pastoral Wang Wei in spring

In the house, spring doves are singing, and apricot blossoms are white by the trees.

hold the axe to cut down the poplar, and the lotus hoe the spring vein.

when I return to Yan, I know my old nest, and the old people look at the new calendar.

I'm afraid that I'm not at home, and I'm disappointed that I'm a traveler.

passing my old friend Zhuang Meng Haoran

preparing me chicken and rice, old friend, you entertain me at your farm.

we watch the green trees that circle your village, and the pale blue of outlying mountains.

we open your window over garden and field, to talk mulberry and hemp with our cups in our hands.

wait till the Mountain Holiday, I am coming again in chrysanthemum time.

Yan Xing Du Fu at the age of

At the age of dusk, there are many north winds, and in the snow in Xiaoxiang Dongting. The fisherman's net is frozen in the cold,

Don't shoot the wild goose singing mulberry bow. Last year, rice was scarce for the army, and this year, rice was cheap and hurt farmers.

high motor officials hate wine and meat, and this generation is afraid of nothing. The Chu people value fish more than birds.

You should kill Nan Feihong in vain. I heard that men and women are everywhere, and cutting kindness and forbearance is also a matter of renting.

In the past, money was used to catch private castings, but now there are lead, tin and bronze. Carving mud is the easiest thing to get,

likes and dislikes don't match looks. When will this song's sorrow end?

sing a song, Wen tingyun

get up and look at Nanshan, where mountains burn mountains and fields. The reddish evening is extinguished, and the short flame is connected again.

Differential rocks, Lingqingbi, Ran Ran. Low with the return air, far as the eaves are red.

a neighbor can talk, but he wants to die. It is said that Chu is more vulgar, and she is burned as an early field.

bean sprouts and insects promote growth, and flowers on the fence are the house. The abandoned stack is returned to the column, and the square chicken pecks the millet.

the spring rain is fine in the new year, and the gods are playing everywhere. People who hold money are divining, knocking on the tiles to separate the forest.

Bude divined the divination on the mountain and returned to the mulberry date. Blow the fire to the imperata, and the waist sickle reflects the cane.

the wind drives the mistletoe smoke, and the mistletoe trees connect the hills. The stars burst out of the sky, and the flying embers fell down the steps.

groan and sneeze on your back, and the crow mother will curse you for being rich. Who knows, lush, do official tax.

The four seasons are full of pastoral excitement (1)

Plums are golden and apricots are fat, and wheat flowers are white and cauliflower is rare. No one has ever crossed the fence, only dragonflies and butterflies fly.

the four seasons are full of pastoral excitement (2)

The children in the village are in charge of their own affairs when they are out in the daytime and have a good performance at night. Although children do not plough the fields and weave cloth, they also learn a kind of melon under the mulberry shade.

The second part of the seven verses reading Shen Yuan's poems

Shen Yuan's poems are full of tears,

How many times can he hold his head?

If he dreams all his life,

If he dreams all his life, he can't find it.

The old words are vaguely distinguished by the residual ink,

When the wine smells delicious.

by my thatch door, leaning on my staff, I listen to cicadas in the evening wind.

sunset lingers at the ferry, supper-smoke floats up from the houses.

and sing a wild poem at Five Willows? is drunk in the summer.

answering vice-prefect zhang

as the years go by, give me but peace, freedom from ten thousand matters.

I ask myself and always answer, what can be better than coming home?.

a wind from the pine-trees blows my sash, and my lute is bright with the mountain moon.

it's reasonable to ask the poor, hark, on the lake there's a fisherman singing!.

Weicheng Qu

Weicheng is light and dusty in the rainy city, and the guest house is green and willow-colored.

I advise you to drink one more glass of wine, and go out to Yangguan for no reason.

Lu Chai

there seems to be no one on the empty mountain, and yet I think I hear a voice.

where sunlight, entering a grove, shines back to me from the green moss.

Bamboo House

leaning alone in the close bamboos, I am playing my lute and humming a song.

too softly for anyone to hear, except my comrade, the bright moon.

Farewell

friend, I have watched you down the mountain, till now in the dark I close my thatch door.

grasses return again green in the spring, but O my Prince of Friends, do you??

Acacia

when those red berries come in springtime, flushing on your southland branches?

take home an armful, for my sake, as a symbol of our love.

an autumn evening in the mountains

after rain the empty mountain, stands autumnal in the evening.

moonlight in its groves of pine, stones of crystal in its brooks.

bamboos whisper of washer-girls bound home, lotus-leaves yield before a fisher-boat.

and what does it matter that springtime has gone, while you are here, O Prince of Friends?.

bound home to mount song

the limpid river, past its bushes, running slowly as my chariot.

becomes a fellow voyager, returning home with the evening birds.

a ruined city-wall overtops an old ferry, autumn sunset floods the peaks.

far away, beside Mount Song, I shall close my door and be at peace.

Zhongnanshan

its massive height near the City of Heaven, joins a thousand mountains to the corner of the sea.

clouds, when I look back, close behind me, mists, when I enter them, are gone.

a central peak divides the wilds, and weather into many valleys.

needing a place to spend the night, I call to a wood-cutter over the river.

xiangji temple

not knowing the way to the Temple of Heaped Fragrance, under miles of mountain-cloud I have wandered.

through ancient woods without a human track, but now on the height I hear a bell?

a rillet sings over winding rocks, the sun is tempered by green pines.

and at twilight, close to an emptying pool, thought can conquer the Passion-Dragon.

a message to commissioner li at zizhou

from ten thousand valleys the trees touch heaven, on a thousand peaks cuckoos are calling.

and, after a night of mountain rain, from each summit come hundreds of silken cascades.

Chinese women lose [wooden boy] cloth, or farmers quarrel over taro fields.

preside as wisely as Wenweng did, is fame to be only for the ancients?.

overlooking the Han river

with its three southern branches reaching the Chu border, and its nine streams touching the gateway of Jing.

this river runs beyond heaven and earth, where the colour of mountains both is and is not.

the dwellings of men seem floating along, on ripples of the distant sky.

these beautiful days here in Xiangyang, make drunken my old mountain heart!.

my retreat at mount zhongnan

my heart in middle age found the Way, and I came to dwell at the foot of this mountain.

when the spirit moves, I wander alone, amid beauty that is all for me.

I will walk till the water checks my path, then sit and watch the rising clouds.

and some day meet an old wood-cutter, and talk and laugh and never return.

Farewell

I dismount from my horse and I offer you wine, and I ask you where you are going and why.

and you answer: "I am discontent", and would rest at the foot of the southern mountain..

so give me leave and ask me no questions, white clouds pass there without end.

autumn night song

Guipo's early autumn dew is slight, but she is thin and hasn't changed clothes.

Yin Zheng has been diligent at night, and she is afraid of leaving her room.

on the mountain holiday thinking of my brothers in shandong

Being a stranger in a foreign land, he misses his family more than ever during festivals.

I know from a distance where my brother climbs, and there is one less person in the dogwood.

Qingxi

I have sailed the River of Yellow Flowers, borne by the channel of a green stream.

rounding ten thousand turns through the mountains, on a journey of less than thirty miles.

rapids hum over heaped rocks, but where light grows dim in the thick pines.

the surface of an inlet sways with nut-horns, and weeds are lush along the banks.

down in my heart I have always been as pure, as this limpid water is.

oh, to remain on a broad flat rock, and to cast a fishing-line forever!.

a Farm-house on the Wei River

in the slant of the sun on the country-side, cattle and sheep trail home along the lane.

and a rugged old man in a thatch door, leans on a staff and thinks of his son, the herdboy.

pheasant [sentence] Mai Miaoxiu, silk-worms asleep, pared mulberry-leaves.

and the farmers, returning with hoes on their shoulders, hail one another familiarly.

no wonder I long for the simple life, and am sighing the old song, Oh, to go Back Again!.

Xi shiyong

since beauty is honoured all over the Empire, how could Xi Shi remain humbly at home?.

washing clothes at dawn by a southern lake, and that evening a great lady in a palace of the north:.

lowly one day, no different from the others, the next day exalted, everyone praising her..

no more would her own hands powder her face, or arrange on her shoulders a silken robe..

and the more the King loved her, the lovelier she looked, blinding him away from wisdom..

girls who had once washed silk beside her, were kept at a distance from her chariot..

and none of the girls in her neighbours' houses,by pursing their brows could copy her beauty!

to Qiwu Qian Bound Home After Failing in an Examination

in a happy reign there should be no hermits, the wise and able should consult together.

so you, a man of the eastern mountains, gave up your life of picking herbs.

and came all the way to the Gate of Gold, but you found your devotion unavailing?

to spend the Day of No Fire on one of the southern rivers, you have mended your spring clothes here in these northern cities..

I pour you the farewell wine as you set out from the capital, soon I shall be left behind here by my bosomfriend.

in your sail-boat of sweet cinnamon-wood, you will float again toward your own thatch door.

led along by distant trees, to a sunset shining on a far-away town.

what though your purpose happened to fail, doubt not that some of us can hear high music.

miscellaneous poems

you who have come from my old country, tell me what has happened there!.

was the plum, when you passed my silken window, opening its first cold blossom??

Send Zhu Da to Qin

Avoid the Five Mausoleums. The sword is worth a thousand dollars.

After parting, we will have a good life in all of my heart.

an early audience at the palace of light harmonizing secretary jia zhi's poem

the red-capped Cock-Man has just announced morning, the Keeper of the Robes brings Jade-Cloud Furs.

heaven's nine doors reveal the palace and its courtyards, and the coats of many countries bow to the Pearl Crown.

sunshine has entered the giants' carven palms, incense wreathes the Dragon Robe.

the audience adjourns-and the five-coloured edict, sets girdle-beads clinking toward the Lake of the Phoenix.

harmonizing a poem by palace-attendant guo

The splendor of the East Gate, where peach and plum are blooming and the willowcotton flies.

you have heard in your office the court-bell of twilight, birds find perches, officials head for home.

your morning-jade will tinkle as you thread the golden palace, you will bring the word of Heaven from the closing gates at night.

and I should serve there with you; but being full of years, I have taken off official robes and am resting from my troubles.

looking down in a spring-rain on the course from fairy-mountain palace to the pavilion of increase harmonizing the emperor's poem

round a turn of the Qin Fortress winds the Wei River, and Yellow Mountain foot-hills enclose the Court of China.

past the South Gate willows comes the Car of Many Bells, on the upper Palace-Garden Road-a solid length of blossom.

a Forbidden City roof holds two phoenixes in cloud, the foliage of spring shelters multitudes from rain.

and now, when the heavens are propitious for action, here is our Emperor ready-no wasteful wanderer.

in my lodge at wang chuan after a long rain

the woods have stored the rain, and slow comes the smoke, steamed quinoa to cook millet □ (add grass head after removing three points of water).

over the quiet marsh-land flies a white egret, and mango-birds are singing in the full summer trees.

I have learned to watch in peace the mountain morning glories, to eat split dewy sunflower-seeds under a bough of pine.

to yield the post of honour to any boor at all, why should I frighten sea gulls, even with a thought?.

and Jiashe people reported the news to

Jiange Chicken People, the Keeper of the Robes brings Jade-Cloud Furs.

heaven's nine doors reveal the palace and its courtyards, and the coats of many countries bow to the Pearl Crown.

sunshine has entered the giants' carven palms, incense wreathes the Dragon Robe.

the audience adjourns-and the five-coloured edict, Pei Sheng returns to Fengchitou.

Send Zhang Wu back to the mountain

Send the monarch to the end of his melancholy, and who will be sent back.

hand in hand for several days, and brush your clothes first once.

there is a hut in Dongshan, so it's lucky to sweep the jingfei.

when you thank the official, you won't be upset.

Looking at the new sunny field (working late)

The new sunny Yuan Ye is vast. Extremely clean.

guomen is near the ferry. The village tree is connected with the stream mouth.

Bai shui Ming Tian wai. After Bifeng came out of the mountain.

there are no idle people in the farming month. Pour out the family's family.

Huanghuachuan

The dangerous path turns tens of thousands, and it will rest for three miles.

I see the disciples in the circle, and I see them hidden in the forest hills.

it rains softly, and flows in the gurgling stones.

in a deep stream, there is a long whistle at the top of a mountain.

when you see Nanshan Yang, the white dew is misty.

green and beautiful, green trees are floating.

I used to hate being secretive, but I was careless and worried.

Cui Puyang's elder brother is busy in the mountains before the season.

Autumn is good, and Kuang Jun is idle in the pool.

under the leisurely Xilin, you know yourself in front of the mountain.

thousands of miles across the sky, and several peaks emerge from the clouds.

cragginess to the state of Qin.

the rain is slanting and the sun is shining, and the birds in the evening are still there.

my old friend is still respected today, and I sigh with shame.

senior general

when he was a youth of fifteen or twenty, he chased a wild horse, he caught him and rode him.

he shot the white-browed mountain tiger, he defied the yellow-bristled Horseman of Ye!

fighting single-handed for a thousand miles, with his naked dagger he could hold a multitude.

granted that the troops of China were as swift as heaven's thunder, and that Tartar soldiers perished in pitfalls fanged with iron.

general Wei Qing's victory was only a thing of chance, and General Li Guang's thwarted effort was his fate, not his fault.

since this man's retirement he is looking old and worn, experience of the world has hastened his white hairs.

though once his quick dart never missed the right eye of a bird, now knotted veins and tendons make his left arm like an osier.

he is sometimes at the road-side selling melons from his garden, he is sometimes planting willows round his hermitage.

his lonely lane is shut away by a dense grove, his vacant window looks upon the far cold mountains.

but, if he prayed, the waters would come gushing for his men, and never would he wanton his cause away with wine.

war-clouds are spreading, under the Helan Range, back and forth, day and night, go feathered messages.

in the three River Provinces, the governors call young men, and five imperial edicts have summoned the old general.

so he dusts his iron coat and shines it like snow, waves his dagger from its jade hilt in a dance of starry steel.

he is ready with his strong northern bow to smite the Tartar chieftain, that never a foreign war-dress may affront the Emperor.

there once was an aged Prefect, forgotten and far away, who still could manage triumph with a single stroke!

Taoyuanxing

a fisherman is drifting, enjoying the spring mountains, and the peach-trees on both banks lead him to an ancient source.

watching the fresh-coloured trees, he never thinks of distance, till he comes to the end of the blue stream and suddenly- strange men!.

the beginning of Yamaguchi's stealth [Lu 'ao], but then it opens wide again on a broad and level path.

and far beyond he faces clouds crowning a reach of trees, and thousands of houses shadowed round with flowers and bamboos.

woodsmen tell him their names in the ancient speech of Han, and clothes of the Qin Dynasty are worn by all these people.

Juren * * lives in Wulingyuan, on farms and in gardens that are like a world apart.

their dwellings at peace under pines in the clear moon, until sunrise fills the low sky with crowing and barking.

...At news of a stranger the people all assemble, and each of them invites him home and asks him where he was born.

alleys and paths are cleared for him of petals in the morning, and fishermen and farmers bring him their loads at dusk.

they had left the world long ago, they had come here seeking refuge, they have lived like angels ever since, blessedly far away.

no one in the cave knowing anything outside? Outsiders viewing only empty mountains and thick clouds.

the fisherman, unaware of his great good fortune, begins to think of country, of home, of worldly ties.

finds his way out of the cave again, past mountains and past rivers, intending some time to return, when he has told his kin.

he studies every step he takes, fixes it well in mind, and forgets that cliffs and peaks may vary their appearance?

it is certain that to enter through the deepness of the mountain, a green river leads you, into a misty wood.

but now, with spring-floods everywhere and floating peachpetals, which is the way to go, to find that hidden source?.

a song of a girl from loyang

there's a girl from Loyang in the door across the street, you can look more than fifteen.

while her master rides his rapid horse with jade bit an bridle, her handmaid brings her cod-fish in a golden plate.

on her painted pavilions, facing red towers, cornices are pink and green with peach-bloom and with willow.

canopies of silk awn her seven-scented chariot, and rare fans shade her, home to her nine-flowered curtains.

her lord, with rank and wealth and in the bud of life, exceeds in munificence the richest men of old.

he favours this girl of lowly birth, he has her taught to dance, and he gives away his coral-trees to almost anyone.

the wind of dawn just stirs when his nine soft lights go out, nine tiny patches of flying flowers.

between dances she has barely time for singing over the songs, dress up as just incense.

those she knows in town are only the rich and the lavish, and day and night she is visiting the hosts of the gayest mansions.

who notices the girl from Yue with a face of white jade, humble, poor, alone, by the river, washing silk?!

Go in early spring

Purple plums are blooming for the first time, and yellow birds are still singing.

who can't make spring as late as a girl?

love the water looks at the makeup, making people feel ashamed.

the fragrance is afraid of the wind blowing away, and the clothes are wet with sorrow.

in the green door of the jade boudoir, cars enter at sunset.

You are fond of lovesickness, and you cry to the colorful curtain.

it's even more suspicious to remember your late arrival.

not as good as red-brimmed swallows, when they live in green grass.

You should teach Yang Zi to talk about the Confucian Classics Institute, and Huai Wang to drink.

it's a little slow in the morning, but it's too long to sit down.

after turning back to the silver candle, Lin Kai can do odd jobs.

Yan cheng has not started yet, and the road ahead holds the first song.

from the king of qi, you should teach

the guests to be full of fragrant minks, and the palace dolls to be ambassadors to Zhang.

the flowers in the stream are light pink, and there are few lights in the mountains and moons.

the jade yarn is rich in eyes, and the flying spring embroidery is original. <