Youge Xijun

The strong wind blows and the geese in the south are mourning. Looking north to Guanshan, there are two lines of tears. Looking at the flying horses, I miss riding on the yellow; recalling the dancing in the past, it seems like turning my palms backwards. I miss my hometown, which is far away, and I miss my old days in the imperial capital. I feel sad that my relatives are far away, but I only have books to keep me company. The good times in the past are like dreams, and they are still vivid in my mind. The longing after farewell is like the flow of a vast river into the sea. Looking eastward from Yumen, it is difficult to distinguish between north and south. I look for beautiful flowers to forget my worries, but I finally realize that flowers are not the ones that relieve my worries. Holding a red pen, imitating the painting, he sighed wonderfully to the king of Jiangdu. I once chanted while wielding the sword, and felt sorry for Li Twelve Niang. The willows and willows are all green, and the spring breeze blows out of Yangguan. It's not cold even in the western frontier, and my heart is like that of Fei Hong. Conception: