Four poems, small sighs.

Yan returns: Pointing to the cold thrush of the rivers and mountains, the flute sound provokes the breeze to accompany it.

Sending smoke and moon across the river, I don't know who is passing by at the end of the world.

Zhou Yunkai: Closing his eyes is like a fairy sleeping cloud, and opening his eyes is a fairy and a drunk.

A wisp of infatuation is gone, and a little cinnabar is sad.

Dong Chuchen: How can there be hatred and sadness without thought, and how can it be difficult to stop without hatred.

There is no intention to get together again, and there is no chance to live in the world.

Zheng Ziwei: The scenery in front of the market is in front of you, and the name is buried outside the city of Gusu.

I wish you a long life, but you can see it with a smile.

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