Pan Weishi's Poetry Collection

I have a word here, brother, take a look: Sauvignon Blanc The cold rain is light, the evening wind is blowing, the willow branches are folded and green, and the green plums are boiled with warm wine. Full of sorrow, leaving people drunk, every drop is not rain, but tears of lovesickness.

I have a word here: Visit Kinmen·Snow The moon suddenly brightened, frightening the flying birds away in the tree. They missed the fifth watch, and the cold wind whistled. The long river flows at night, and the lights are dim and lonely. Half of the branches are pale white, suspecting the light frost, and the snow is fluttering in the lowered eyes. There is another word: Huanxisha·Old Scenery The flowers fall and remain fragrant; the rain leaves the clear sky; the fallen flowers fill the sky with fragrance. The water keeps flowing and the clouds clear. In the past, people traveled far away without seeing guests. They raised their glasses and drank alone, which hurt the old scene. Tonight, I'm still drunk but still dreaming.

Click on Chapter 14 and it won't stop.