What are the poems about missing lovers?

1, "untitled time was long before I met her, but it was longer than after we parted" Li Shangyin [Tang Dynasty]

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! .

It's hard to meet each other, and it's even harder to leave, not to mention in this late spring when the east wind is weak and the flowers are withered. Spring silkworms don't spin silk when they die, and wax oil like tears can drip dry when candles are burned to ashes. Dress up in the morning and look in the mirror. I'm only worried that the clouds in my hair will change color and my face will disappear. I can't sleep alone in the long night, so I must feel Leng Yue's aggression. Penglai Mountain is not too far from here, but there is no road to cross. Please visit me diligently by a messenger like the bluebird.

2. Li Qingzhao (Song Dynasty) "One plum, one lotus root, the residual jade in autumn"

Lotus root is fragrant, and jade is lingering in autumn. Gently untie Luo Shang and go to Lan alone. Who sent the brocade book? The word goose returns, and the moon is full of the west building.

Flowers bloom and fall, and flowing water gurgles. One kind of lovesickness, two places of leisure. There is no way to eliminate this situation, only frown and mind.

The pink lotus has withered, the fragrance has dispersed, and the jade bamboo mat is cool in autumn. Untie the silk skirt, put on casual clothes and go aboard alone. Looking up at the distant sky, where white clouds are rolling, who will send the brocade book? By the time the geese flew back, the moonlight had spread all over the west building.

Falling flowers alone, flowing water alone. We all miss each other, but we can't talk to each other, so we have to be unhappy alone. This lovesick sorrow can't be sent away. It just disappeared from the wrinkled brow and was faintly entangled in my heart.

3, "A note to friends in the north on a rainy night" Li Shangyin [Tang Dynasty]

When you ask about the return date, it's hard to say, evening rain, Manqiuchi. ?

When * * * cut the candle at the west window, but talk about the rain at night.

You asked me the date of going home, but I haven't decided yet. At this moment, the night rain in Bashan is raining, and it has already rained over Qiuchi. When can we have a long talk by candlelight and tell each other our thoughts in the rainy night tonight?

4. Liu Yong [Song Dynasty]

Leaning against the dangerous building, the wind is fine, looking forward to spring sorrow, and the sky is dark. In the afterglow of grass and smoke, no one can rely on the meaning of silence.

I plan to get drunk on the map of madness and sing songs for wine, which is strong and tasteless. I don't regret that my belt is getting wider and wider, which makes people haggard for Iraq.

I leaned on the railing of a tall building for a long time, and the breeze brushed my face, which made me feel dejected in the endless spring, and my depression and sadness rose from the distant boundless sky. Green grass, drifting clouds and smoke, hidden in the afterglow of sunset, no one understands my feeling of leaning against the railing.

I wanted to indulge myself and get drunk, raise a glass and sing, but I felt meaningless when I barely laughed. I'm getting thinner and thinner, but I haven't always regretted it. I'd rather look haggard because of her thinness.

5, "Meet You, Go to the West Building without Words" Li Yu [Five Dynasties]

Alone in the west wing, the moon is like a hook. Lonely phoenix tree deep courtyard locks clear autumn.

Cutting is still messy, which is parting from sorrow. It's not just the general taste.

Lonely people are silent and slowly climb up the west building alone. Looking up at the sky, the waning moon is like a hook. The buttonwood trees in the courtyard are lonely, and the deep courtyard is shrouded in cold and desolate autumn colors. It's the pain of national subjugation, and it's been cut all the time. This kind of worry about divorce and missing is another flavor in my mind now.