What poems describe "I was wrong and want to make it right"?

1. Lu You, "Chai Feng Red Crisp Hands"

Red crisp hands, Huang Teng wine. Willow trees on the palace wall in spring in the city;

Dongfeng evil, with a faint sense of joy and full of sadness, has been alienated for several years. No, no, no!

Spring is as old as ever, and people are empty and thin. Tears are red;

Peach blossom falls, idle pool pavilion, although the mountain alliance is there, it is difficult to hold books, mo, mo, mo!

2. Song Dynasty: Su Shi

Seeing that the East Garden is good can dispel the worries of the north. Although this is not my land, I'm going upstairs. I'm going to the south bank of the Yangtze River for a long time.

Short day bright maple valerian, clear frost and dark chrysanthemum ball. Time flies back to the east with a down payment, relying on saving Pan's temple, named Qiu.

3. Untitled, Deep in Mochow Hall? Li Shangyin in Tang Dynasty

The curtains were drawn deeply, and I was in Mochow's house. Sleeping alone makes the night even longer.

The Wushan goddess of Chu was originally a dream; Qingxi is the residence of my sister-in-law, and there is no lang here.

I am a weak lingzhi, biased by storms; I'm Lingfang, but I don't have any fragrant leaves.

Although fully aware of lovesickness, there is no good health; I am infatuated with it to the end and fall in love for life.

4. "Untitled a misty rain blowing from the East" Tang Li Shangyin

The wind in the east wind, the rain in the wind, the rain in the wind, the sound of light thunder came from the other side outside the lotus pond.

There is also a locked golden toad incense burner. Cigarettes are elegantly wrapped, like pulleys in a jade pot, and the traction rope is pumped into the well water.

Wang Wei dreamed that she was a beautiful young girl. Wang Wei had a pillow dream and wrote a poem.

Never-ending, even this bright flame of love will only have ashes? !

5. "Jinse"? Li shangyin

I want to know why my Jinse has fifty strings, and each string has a youthful interval.

Zhuangzi daydreaming, a saint, was bewitched by butterflies, and cuckoo crowed in the imperial spring.

Mermaids shed pearl-like tears on the moon-green sea, and the blue fields breathed their jade to the sun.

A moment that should last forever? Before I knew it, it had come and gone.