Which poet's poem is like this: Although my body does not have bright phoenix wings, I feel the harmonious heartbeat of the sacred unicorn.

At the age of 23, Li Shangyin met a maid-in-waiting ~ they had a brief love. ...

Untitled Li Shangyin

It was a long time ago that I met her, but since we separated, the time has become longer, the east wind is blowing, and a hundred flowers are blooming.

Silkworms in spring will weave until they die, and candles will drain the wick every night.

In the morning, she saw her hair cloud changing in the mirror, but she bravely faced the cold of the moonlight with her evening song.

There are not many roads to Pengshan. Oh, Bluebird, listen! -Give me what she said! .

You said the meeting was empty talk, after we didn't see its trace; Wake up in the oblique moonlight upstairs and listen to Xiao Zhong Chuming.

The dream in the wound is far from being called; When I woke up, I began to write a letter.

The blue candle burns its jade feather lamp, and the musk deer embroiders the hibiscus slightly.

In those days, Liu Lang had long complained that the mountain was far away; You go to more places than the mountains in Shashaling!

The stars were bright last night, but there was a cool breeze at midnight. Our banquet is on the side of Hualou Temple and the east of the county.

Without Cai Feng's wings, it is impossible to be Qi Fei in fly with me; The heart is like a soul, and the feelings are the same.

Guessing and intrigue, wine warms the heart; This group of people came to the bet of drinking friends, and a win-lose red in candlelight.

Alas, it's time to call the roll in the morning when you hear the drums of the fifth watch; Riding to Lantai is like the wind in the wind.

The wind in the east wind, the rain in the wind, the rain in the wind, the sound of light thunder came from the other side outside the lotus pond.

There is also a locked golden toad incense burner. Cigarettes are elegantly wrapped, like pulleys in a jade pot, and the traction rope is pumped into the well water.

Wang Wei dreamed that she was a beautiful young girl. Wang Wei had a pillow dream and wrote a poem.

Never-ending, even this bright flame of love will only have ashes? !

The curtains were drawn deeply, and I was in Mochow's house. Sleeping alone makes the night even longer.

The Wushan goddess of Chu was originally a dream; Qingxi is the residence of my sister-in-law, and there is no lang here.

I am a weak lingzhi, biased by storms; I'm Lingfang, but I don't have any fragrant leaves.

Although fully aware of lovesickness, there is no good health; I am infatuated with it to the end and fall in love for life.