Hua Fei Ling wrote ten ancient poems with flowers.

People are idle, osmanthus flowers fall, and the night is quiet and empty.

Spring has passed, but there are still many flowers and flowers. People go nearby, but the birds are still not disturbed.

Even if the Peach Blossom Pond is deep, it is not as deep as Wang Lun's sending away my love.

The high sentiment has vanished, and I don't dream with Lihua.

Everything is a dream in the end. Take a rest. The yellow butterfly will worry tomorrow.

Plum golden apricot fat, wheat white, cauliflower thin.

In the world of April, the flowers have withered, and the peach blossoms in the ancient temples have just bloomed.

Sitting alone in the dusk, who is the companion, Ziwei Hua versus Ziweilang.

Peach and plum come out of the deep well, and spring blossoms are shocking.

But now I remember that night, that storm, I wonder how many flowers were broken?