Ancient poetry with ink

My Xiyan Lake Head Tree,

Flowers bloom and fade with ink marks,

Don't boast that the color is beautiful,

Just keep it fresh and full of Kun.

line

gong zizhen

Frost throw it, lean on the cold, and let it drip lightly.

How dare you pretend to be a doctor? The prescription only sells Gudan.

the left side

Hong zikui

The door is silent and locked, and the ink is dripping.

Sing till dawn and soak crape myrtle for a month.

Untitled

Lu Xun

Wanjiamo noodles have no wormwood food, and there are songs.

My mind is broad, even broad, and I am listening to the thunder in a quiet place.

Black clouds sprinkle ink and half cover the hills.

My Xiyan Lake Head Tree,

Flowers bloom and fade with ink marks,

Don't boast that the color is beautiful,

Just keep it fresh and full of Kun.