Poetry describing natural caves

Poems describing natural caves are as follows:

1, the beauty of the cave is suspected to be a palace in the sky. The plank road is in the air, and a hundred holes are connected. The Buddha ranks first, the wind tunnel is lined up, the golden bell rings, the rain flies and the black dragon jumps. A stalactite stands tall and several stone waterfalls overlap. Tiandong, scenic spots and underwater stone flowers suddenly disappeared. Longteng Yaochi, the shadow of armor is vivid, powerful and awe-inspiring.

The lotus pond is made of honey and tastes sweet; The handle of the awning is brave, and it hits like a clear music. The west wind lifts the curtain and the flame rests; The giant curtain hung down and rolled up thousands of piles of snow. Magnificent and enchanting, the beauty of caves is absolutely unique in the north. Cave wonders such as Haicheng Qionglou. Jade bamboo shoots and strange stones are jagged and eventful. Pavilions are natural. There are two pillars without words, supported by Cang Yue, and the sacred text is brilliant.

The stupa is a seven-story tower, like a bell, with a rumbling Sanskrit sound. The immortals gather together, and the Buddha's light appears at first sight, which is magnificent; The magic group fell, King Kong held the pestle, and half a myth was shocked. At the foot of the iceberg, the Buddha is nirvana, and in the temple of the gods, Wan Nading can be found. Then I saw the weather in Qian Qian, from the greatest to the greatest, from the most energetic to the most energetic, from the initial work. Strange coquettish, cave scenery gathers guests and friends.

2. Walking into Yinziyan, touching your cold skin, warm as jade, clear as bone, walking into you, like walking into the arms of a girl who has been imprisoned for many years, cold as a sad' love poem', washing away my anxiety.

The flashing neon lights are even more exaggerated. Yours is sad and bitter, and the dripping water drops are crystal clear, like your tears for thousands of years, dripping on my lips, so bitter. Flashing magnesium light, which one can read?

You wrote a thousand-year-old love poem, and the rocks here are a group of monks chanting. From the scriptures, every drop of water is a wooden fish and a cry for survival. Monks, go out and get the wooden fish in your hands and let the bright sunshine shine into your hearts. Otherwise, you have been chanting for tens of thousands of years, even yourself.

3, falling from the sky, your slender shawl, solidified beauty, pouring admiration. Neons flying, spreading colorful love, moving silently, this unique hole on the swing. Moved by the spotlight, let your eyes climb up along the poetry, and the spring water of the underground river will feed back your heart. Hand over my pen, copy the ripples of the rocks, soak in the beautiful shadow, and achieve the beauty of the Millennium.