Who knows to write poems about the night and the night?

(1) at The Mountain-Lodge of the Buddhist Priest Ye at Night Waiting in Vain for My Friend Ding

(Meng Haoran)

now that the sun has set beyond the western range, valley after valley is shadowy and dim.

and now through pine-trees come the moon and the chill of evening, and my ears feel pure with the sound of wind and water.

firewood people get what they want, birds have settled on their perches in the quiet mist.

and still -- because you promised -- I am waiting for you, waiting, playing lute under a wayside vine.

Delighting in Rain on a Spring Night

(Du Fu)

Good rain knows the season, when spring comes.

Sneaking into the night with the wind, moistening things quietly.

Wild trails and clouds are all dark, and rivers and boats are only bright.

Seeing the red and wet places, flowers are heavy on the city of Jinguan.

a night abroad

(Du Fu) < p

the stars lean down from open space, and the moon comes running up the river.

if only my art might bring me fame, and free my sick old age from office!.

flitting, flitting, what am I like, but a sand-snipe in the wide, wide world!.

my retreat at mount zhongnan

(Wang Wei)

my heart in middle age found the Way, and I came to dwell at the foot of this mountain.

I come and go alone, amid beauty that is all for me.

I will walk till the water checks my path, then sit and watch the rising clouds.

and some day meet an old wood-cutter, and talk and laugh and never return.

looking at the moon and thinking of one far away

(Zhang Jiuling)

the moon, grown full now over the sea, Tianya * * * at this time.

brings to separated hearts, the long thoughtfulness of night.

it is no darker though I blow out my candle, it is no warmer though I put on my coat.

so I leave my message with the moon, and turn to my bed, hoping for dreams.

miscellaneous poems

(Shen Quanqi)

against the City of the Yellow Dragon, our troops were sent long years ago.

and girls here watch the same melancholy moon, that lights our Chinese warriors.

and young wives dream a dream of spring, that last night their heroic husbands.

in a great attack, with flags and drums, captured the City of the Yellow Dragon?

a mooring under north fort hill

(Wang Wan)

under blue mountains we wound our way, my boat and I, along green water.

until the banks at low tide widened, with no wind stirring my lone sail.

...Night now yields to a sea of sun, and the old year melts in freshets.

at last I can send my messengers? Wildgeese, homing to Loyang.

thoughts of old time from a night-mooring under mount niu-zhu

(Li Bai)

this night to the west of the river-brim, there is not one cloud in the whole blue sky;

as I watch from my deck the autumn moon, vainly remembering old General Xie.

I have poems; I can read, he heard others, but not mine.

tomorrow I shall hoist my sail, with fallen maple-leaves behind me.

moonlit night

(Du Fu)

far off in Fuzhou she is watching the moonlight, watching it alone from the window of her chamber.

for our boy and girl, poor little babes, are too young to know where the Capital is.

her cloudy hair is sweet with mist, her jade-white shoulder is cold in the moon.

when shall we lie again on our screen, watching this bright light with no more tears?

remembering my brothers on a moonlight night

(Du Fu)

a wanderer hears drums portending battle, by the first call of autumn from a wildgoose at the border.

he knows that the dews tonight will be frost, how much brighter the moonlight is at home!.

o my brothers, lost and scattered, what is life to me without you?.

yet if missives in time of peace go wrong, what can I hope for during war?.

a message to commissioner li at zizhou

(Wang Wei)

from ten thousand valleys the trees touch heaven, on a thousand peaks cuckoos are calling.

and, after a night of mountain rain, from each summit come hundreds of silken cascades.

Chinese women lose cloth, or farmers quarrel over taro fields.

preside as wisely as Wenweng did, is fame to be only for the ancients?.

on returning at the year's end to zhongnan mountain

(Meng Haoran)

I petition no more at the north palace-gate, to this tumble-down hut on Zhongnan Mountain.

I was banished for my blunders, by a wise ruler, I have been sick so long I see none of my friends.

my white hairs hasten my decline, like pale beams ending the old year.

therefore I lie awake and ponder, on the pine-shadowed moonlight in my empty window.

from a mooring on the tonglu to a friend in yangzhou

(Meng Haoran)

with monkeys whimpering on the shadowy mountain, and the river rushing through the night.

and a wind in the leaves along both banks, and the moon athwart my solitary sail.

I, a stranger in this inland district, homesick for my Yangzhou friends.

send eastward two long streams of tears, to find the nearest touch of the sea.

an autumn evening harmonizing cheng qin's poem

(Han Yi)

while a cold wind is creeping under my mat, and the city's naked wall grows pale with the autumn moon.

I see a lone wild-goose crossing the River of Stars, and I hear, on stone in the night, thousands of washing mallets.

but, instead of wishing the season, as it goes, to bear me also far away.

I have found your poem so beautiful, that I forget the homing birds.

changing on old friends in a village inn

(Dai Shulun)

while the autumn moon is pouring full, on a thousand night-levels among towns and villages.

there meet by chance, south of the river, dreaming doubters of a dream.

in the trees a wind has startled the birds, and insects cower from cold in the grass.

but wayfarers at least have wine, and nothing to fear -- till the morning bell.

a farewell to han shen at the yunyang inn

(Sikong Shu)

long divided by river and sea, for years we two have failed to meet.

and suddenly to find you seems like a dream, with a catch in the throat, we ask how old we are.

our single lamp shines, through cold and wet, on a bamboo-thicket sheathed in rain.

but forgetting the sadness that will come with tomorrow, leave the cup and cherish the biography.

a night thought on terrace tower

(Wei Zhuang)

far through the night a harp is sighing, with a sadness of wind and rain in the strings.

there's a solitary lantern, a bugle-call, and beyond Terrace Tower down goes the moon.

fragrant grasses have changed and faded, while still I have been hoping that my old friend would come.

there are no more messengers I can send him, now that the wild geese have turned south.

Poems by Yan Xie's Literature Leaving Night

(Fan Yun)

The fog on the balcony is cleared at first, and the water in the dreamland is cut off.

The distant mountains are hidden and seen, and the flat sand is broken.

Don't sing more sad songs.

After brushing the car dust, I am in charge of Donggao millet .. Frost apes travel alone.

I was left behind by Meng Luo, which made me think of you.

Looking at Weaver Maid's poem

(Fan Yun)

I feel sorry for myself at night.

I have spared no pains to defend myself, and the river has not been filled.

I am full of emotions, and my heart is hanging everywhere.

I wish to be a pair of green flowers.

I hear the lonely notes of a bugle sounding through the dark, the moon is in mid-heaven, but there's no one to share it with me?

my messengers are scattered by whirls of rain and sand, city-gates are closed to a traveller; mountains are walls in my way.

yet, I who have borne ten years of pitiable existence, find here a perch, a little branch, and am safe for this one night.

boat trip in Jiangyin Road

(Zhang Yanshi)

After the rain, the raft was muddy, and the willow was ruined.

the dream smells of broken corners, sending a lingering sound, and it looks new to the old marks.

fish and salt make a market everywhere, and every family grows up with children and grandchildren.

I'd like to tell you more about how to forgive the people's strength and fight against San Qian.

Pavilion Night

(Du Fu)

while winter daylight shortens in the elemental scale, and snow and frost whiten the cold-circling night.

stark sounds the fifth-watch with a challenge of drum and bugle, the stars and the River of Heaven pulse over the three mountains.

I hear women in the distance, wailing after the battle, I see barbarian fishermen and woodcutters in the dawn.

sleeping-Dragon, Plunging-Horse, are no generals nowthey are dust, hush for a moment, O tumult of the world..

returning at Night to Lumen Mountain

(Meng Haoran)

a bell in the mountain-temple sounds the coming of night, I hear people at the fishing-town stumble aboard the ferry.

People follow the sand road to Jianggu, I also take a boat and am bound for Lumen Mountain.

and soon the Lumen moonlight is piercing misty trees, I have come, before I know it, upon an ancient hermitage.

the thatch door, the piney path, the solitude, the quiet, where a hermit lives and moves, never needing a companion.

From Xiakou to Xiwang Yueyang, Yingzhou, from Zhongcheng (Liu Changqing)

no ripples in the river, no mist on the islands, yet the landscape is blurred toward my friend in Chu.

birds in the slanting sun cross Hankou, and the autumn sky mingles with Lake Dongting.

from a bleak mountain wall the cold tone of a bugle, reminds me, moored by a ruined fort.

that Jia Yi's loyal plea to the House of Han, banned him to Changsha, to be an exile.

a night-mooring at wuchang

(Lu Lun)

far off in the clouds stand the walls of Hanyang, another day's journey for my lone sail.

though a river-merchant ought to sleep in this calm weather, I listen to the tide at night and voices of the boatmen.

my thin hair grows wintry, like the triple Xiang streams, three thousand miles my heart goes, homesick with the moon.

but the war has left me nothing of my heritage, and oh, the pang of hearing these drums along the river!.

untitled

(Li Shangyin)

the stars of last night and the wind of last night, are west of the Painted Chamber and east of Cinnamon Hall.

though I have for my body no wings like those of the bright-coloured phoenix, yet I feel the harmonious heart-beat of the Sacred Unicorn.

across the spring-wine, while it warms me, I prompt you how to bet, where, group by group, we are throwing dice in the light of a crimson lamp.

till the rolling of a drum, alas, calls me to my duties, and I mount my horse and ride away, like a water-plant cut adrift.

untitled one

(Li Shangyin)

you said you would come, but you did not, and you left me with no other trace, than the moonlight on your tower at the fifth-watch bell.

I cry for you forever gone, I cannot waken yet, I try to read your hurried note, I find the ink too pale.

blue burns your candle in its kingfisher-feather lantern, and a sweet breath steals from your hibiscus-broidered curtain.

but far beyond my reach is the Enchanted Mountain, and you are on the other side, ten thousand peaks away.

a night-mooring on the jiande river

(Meng Haoran)

while my little boat moves on its mooring of mist, and daylight wanes, old memories begin.

how wide the world was, how close the trees to heaven, and how clear in the water the nearness of the moon!

Zhuli Pavilion

(Wang Wei)

leaning alone in the close bamboos, I am playing my lute and humming a song.

too softly for anyone to hear, except my comrade, the bright moon.

an autumn night message to qiu

(Wei Yingwu)

as I walk in the cool of the autumn night, thinking of you, singing my poem.

I hear a mountain pine-cone fall, you also seem to be awake.

Geshuge

(I am from the West)

this constellation, with its seven high stars, is Ge Shu lifting his sword in the night.

and no more barbarians, nor their horses, nor cattle, dare ford the river boundary.

The owner of Furong Mountain who stays in the snow

(Liu Changqing)

The Cangshan Mountain is far away at dusk, and it is cold and the white house is poor.

Chai Men smells dogs barking, and the snowstorm returns to people at night.

(Lu Lun)

high in the faint moonlight, wildgeese are soaring, tartar chieftains are fleeing through the dark.

and we chase them, with horses lightly burdened, and a burden of snow on our bows and our swords.

Sai Xiaqu.

and next morning he finds his white-plumed arrow, pointed deep in the hard rock.

Stay at the Mountain Temple for the night

(Li Bai)

The dangerous building is 1 feet high, and you can pick the stars with your hands.

You dare not speak loudly, for fear of shocking people.

The Jade Clan

(Li Bai)

her jade-white staircase is cold with dew, her silk soles are wet, she lingered there so long.

but the water curtain, watching through its crystal pane the glow of the autumn moon?.

Silent Night Thinking

(Li Bai)

so bright a gleam on the foot of my bed, could there have been a frost already?.

lifting myself to look, I found that it was moonlight, sinking back again, I thought suddenly of home.

What I saw in the boat night book

(Cha Shenxing)

I saw fishing lights in the dark of the moon, and I was alone with a little firefly.

The wind and waves were slightly scattered all over the river.

Autumn evening.

In day order, the night is as cool as water, lying and watching Petunia and Vega.

Mujiang Yin

(Bai Juyi)

A setting sun is spreading in the water, and half of the river is rustling and half of the river is red.

On the third night of September, the dew is like a pearl and the moon is like a bow.

It's like a dream

(Li Qingzhao)

I often remember the sunset in the Xiting, and I don't know where to go.

I returned to the boat in the evening and strayed into the depths of lotus flowers.

crossing, crossing, started a pool of gulls and herons.

It's a feeling that you will be out of the hedge door at dawn in autumn night to welcome the cold

(land tour)

Three rivers in Wan Li flow into the sea, and five thousand mountains climb the skyscrapers.

The adherents shed tears in the dust, and it's hard to look forward to another year in Julian Waghann.

Sauvignon Blanc

(Nalanxingde)

The mountain is a journey, the water is a journey, and the body is a journey.

a thousand lights at night.

when the wind changes, the snow changes, and the dream of homesickness cannot be shattered.

there is no such sound in my hometown.

a night-mooring near maple bridge

(Zhang Ji)

frosty night, Jiangfeng fishing and sleeping with fire.

Hanshan Temple outside Gusu City, the bell rang to the passenger ship at midnight.

Spring Palace Song

(Wang Changling)

Last night, the wind opened the peach blossom, and the moon was high in the front hall of Weiyang.

Pingyang's song and dance are new favorites, and the spring cold outside the curtain gives a brocade robe.

moonlit night

(Liu Fangping)

It's half a house in the deeper moonlight, and the Beidou is dry and inclined to the south.

tonight, I know it's warm in spring, and the sound of insects is fresh through the green window sand.

on hearing a flute at night from the wall of shouxiang

(Li Yi)

The sand in front of Huilong Peak is like snow, and the moon outside the city is like frost.

I don't know where to play the reed pipe, but I'm looking forward to my hometown all night.

harem words

(Bai Juyi)

Tears wet the scarf, and the temple sings before midnight.

the beauty is broken before she is old, and she leans back in the fumigation cage and sits in the light.

Give it to my wife

(Zhang Hu)

It is forbidden to cross the moon mark on the trees in the Palace, and only look at the heron nest.

Pull the shadow side of Yuchai lamp obliquely, and remove the red flame to save moths.

stop at Qinhuai

(Du Mu)

The smoke cage is cold and the moon is full of sand, and stop at Qinhuai near the restaurant at night.

business women don't know how to hate national subjugation, but they still sing backyard flowers across the river.

a message to han chuo the yangzhou magistrate

(Du Mu)

The green hills are faintly covered with water, and the grass in the south of the Yangtze River has not withered in autumn.

Twenty-four Bridges, on the moonlit night, where do jade people teach blowjobs?

note on a rainy night to a friend in the north

(Li Shangyin)

Before Jun Wen returned, evening rain rose to the autumn pool.

when * * * cuts the candle at the west window, but talks about evening rain.

Jia Sheng

(Li Shangyin)

When the propaganda office asked for a virtuous person to visit the courtiers, Jia Sheng was even more incoherent.

it's a pity that the front seats are empty in the middle of the night.

Yao's resentment

(Wen Tingyun)

The dream of a silver bed on ice is not realized, and the sky is as blue as water and the night is as light as clouds.

The sound of geese is far beyond Xiaoxiang, and the mid-month on the twelfth floor speaks for itself.

polygala tenuifolia

(Gong Zizhen)

Nine sides are rotten and equal to carving insects, but polygala tenuifolia really looks at the grass.

it's a waste to say that athletes are in their hands, and the blue lights and the night snow hinder Shandong.

Looking at the moon for fifteen nights

(Wang Jian)

In the atrium, there is a crow in Bai Shu, and there is a silent and wet osmanthus in Coody Leng.

I don't know whose house Qiu Si will fall into tonight.

Butterfly Lovers

(Yan Shu)

The threshold chrysanthemum is sad with smoke and blue tears. The curtain is light and cold, and the swallows fly away.

the bright moon doesn't know how to leave and hate. Oblique light to dawn wears Zhu Hu.

the west wind withered the green trees last night. Alone in a tall building, you can see the end of the world.

I'd like to send colorful stationery and ruler. The mountains are long and the waters are vast.

Jade Case Yuan Xi

(Xin Qiji)

Thousands of trees are blooming in the easterly night, and the stars are raining down.

BMW carved cars filled the road with incense, the phoenix flute sounded, the jade pot flashed, and the fish and dragons danced all night.

the moth, the willow and the golden thread, are laughing and fragrant.

the crowd looked for her for thousands of Baidu, and suddenly looking back, the man was there, with the lights dim.

qingpingle stays alone in the Wangshi nunnery in Boshan

(Xin Qiji)

Hungry rats around the bed, bats dancing with lanterns. There is a breeze blowing in the house, and it is raining hard, and I am talking to myself between broken paper windows.

I've been in the north and south of the Yangtze River all my life, and I'm pale when I come back. A cold autumn wind blowing through the thin cloth quilt, suddenly woke up, in front of the eyes or the dream of the country.

Tai Chang cited Jiankang's Mid-Autumn Festival to give Lv Shuqian

(Xin Qiji)

A round of autumn shadows turned to golden waves, and the flying mirror was re-polished. Ask Heng E about the wine: What a shame!

it's easy to go by the wind, and the sky is Wan Li, and the mountains and rivers are straight down. Going to Guangxi is more humane and clear!

Xijiang Moon walks in the middle of Huangsha Road at night

(Xin Qiji)

The bright moon surprises the magpies, and the breeze chirps in the middle of the night. The cool night breeze seemed to spread to the distant cicada.

seven or eight stars are out of the sky, and two or three points are in front of the rainy mountain. In the old days, Maodian was near the forest, and the road turned to the stream bridge.

Xijiangyue Mid-Autumn Festival presents a child from

(Su Shi)

The world is a big dream, and life is several times new (once autumn). At night, the leaves of the wind have sounded in the gallery, so look at your eyebrows and temples. Wine base often worries about fewer guests, and the moon is more hindered by clouds. Who is alone with * * * in the Mid-Autumn Festival, holding a lamp (a wine) and looking north sadly.

diviner Huang Zhou ding hui yuan's residence

(su Shi)

when the moon is missing, people will be quiet at first. Who saw eremita solo, as if the sky wild goose - like figure.

when you wake up, you look back, and no one can save it if you hate it. It kept wandering between the cold branches, but refused to perch on any tree, and finally landed lonely on the cold Shoal.

dielianhua mizhou shangyuan

(su Shi)

lights in Qiantang for three to five nights. The bright moon is like frost, and people are picturesque.

At the bottom of the account, blowing sheng is fragrant and spits musk deer. This flavor should be priceless.

people in lonely mountain cities are old. Drums and blowjobs, first joined the Nongsang Society.

the light of the fire is cold and the frost is exposed, and the clouds are faint and snowy.

Linjiangxian returns to Lingao at night

(Su Shi)

After drinking Dongpo at night, he wakes up and gets drunk, and comes back as if he were in the middle of the night. The child's breath has thundered.

you shouldn't even knock at the door. lean on your stick and listen to the sound of the river.

I hate this body for a long time. When can I forget to camp? In the dead of night, the wind is still and the valley is flat.

the boat passed away, and Jiang Hai sent the rest of his life.

Jiang Chengzi Yimao remembers dreams on the twentieth day of the first month

(Su Shi)

Ten years of life and death are boundless. Never think, never forget. Thousands of miles away in a lonely grave, there is nowhere to talk about desolation. Even if you don't know when you meet, your face is covered with dust and your temples are like frost.

at night, I dream and suddenly return home. small