Ancient female poems express men's incomprehension.

Poems of resentment against lang

After a farewell, I miss you in both places, only in March and April, who knows five or six years. The lyre has no intention to play, the eight lines have no biography, the nine-song chain has never been interrupted, and the Shili Pavilion wants to wear it. I can't figure it out, I can't figure it out, so I have to blame you. A thousand words can't be finished, and you are bored. Chongyang climbs to see the lonely geese, and the full moon in August is not round. In July and a half, candles burn incense and ask for heaven. In the summer of June, everyone shook my heart. Pomegranate is as red as May, but it is watered by cold rain. April loquat is not yellow, and I want to be confused in the mirror. In a hurry, the peach blossoms turn with the water in March; Falling and falling, the kite line was broken in February. Hey, Lang Lang, I can't wait to be a woman's man in my next life.

I live at the head of the Yangtze River and you live at the end of the Yangtze River.

I miss you every day, but I can't see you, so I drink Yangtze River water.

When will the water stop? When did this hatred ever happen?

I only hope that your heart is the same as mine, and you will not live up to this mutual yearning.