The cloud smells too fragrant and still wet, and the ink becomes new with the ice —— Fang Yue's "Traveling with Wang Shaoqing to the Erdaoliang in Ziyang"
I am stuck in Zhu Mo, but I can't find a way to win-Jiang Bangzuo's trip to Nanshan, Zhou Xun
The color is still fragrant and the ink is heavy, but the flower heads are not diminished in late spring —— Fang Yue's "The Gardener Collects Ink and Purple on October 6th"
Even if they are indifferent, touching each other will be too weak-Zhang Lei's Xiao Wu Rong Yongqing
If you wear linen again, the ink is really drinkable —— Su Shi's Examination for the Examiner
Depression depends on the white society, loneliness is like Gao Dong —— Yu Xin and Pei Yi's autumn poems