One hundred and one fisherman
An old fisherman spent the night here, under the western cliff
Xiao Ji Qing Xiang burning Chu Zhu
And then, at sunrise, he went his way through the cloven mist
Yi is a landscape green.
Look back at the sky.
Core clouds are chasing each other
One hundred and twenty to send friends away.
And east of the city a white curve of water, with a blue line of mountains north of the wall
Farewell to like a loosened waterplant hundreds of miles here.
Floating clouds travel to so in the sunset think of me
And my horse is neighing again and again, we wave our hands to say goodbye
One hundred and thirty nights pregnant
Through the night, to my motionless tall mast, a light wind is rippling at the grassy shore
And the moon comes running up the river, the stars lean down from open space
And free my sick old age from office!, if only my art might bring me fame
Like but a sandsnipe in the wide, wide world!.
One hundred and forty wangyue
What about Dai Zongfu? One boundless green overspreads two States.
And? a day at once into dawn and dusk comes by., the Maker endowed all the mystic Nature grace here
And the birds fly back and forth before my strained eye., colorful clouds lave? my bosom free and easy
Try to ascend the mountain’s crest: It dwarfs all peaks under our feet.
One hundred and fifty yuan was given to the ancient grass to bid farewell.
One year old and one year old from the original grass.
They are tall once more in the spring wind, wildfire never quite consumes them
And reach the crumbling citygate, sweet they press on the old highroad
I hear them sighing after you, o Prince of Friends, you are gone again
160 bidding a friend farewell at jingmen ferry.
Traveling from Chu to Jingmen
And the river winds through wilderness, where the mountains end and the plains begin
Yue Fei Tian Jing seaclouds gleam like palaces
To draw your boat three hundred miles, and the water has brought you a touch of home
170 Poshan Temple Back Temple
Where early sunlight points the treetops, in the pure morning, near the old temple
Of boughs and flowers, to a Buddhist retreat, my path has wound, through a sheltered hollow
Here birds are alive with mountainlight pool reflects people’s hearts.
And a thousand sounds are quieted only heard the sound of Zhong Qing.
One hundred Lindong * * Prime Minister Zhang/Lindongting
Moon Lake Level are of a single air with heaven
Has beleaguered the city of Yueyang, and a mist from the Yun and Meng valleys
Want to help the boat and live in shame.
As I sit here and watch a fisherman casting acts like a fish.
One hundred and ninety on hearing jun the buddhist monk from shu play his lute.
The monk from Shu with his green silk lutecase West Emei Peak
I waved the breath of pines in a thousand valleys.
I hear him in the icy bells, I hear him in the cleansing brook
I don’t feel how dark the clouds are in the late autumn of Bishan.
One hundred and ten Deng Yueyang Tower
I had always heard of Lake Dongting Jin Yueyang Tower
I can see heaven and earth endlessly floating, with Wu country to the east of me and Chu to the south
The word relatives and friends I am old and sick and alone with my boat.
Rongmashan North and here by the rail how can I help crying?
111 Send Li 12 White 20 Rhymes (1)
In the past, there was an immortal named Kuang Keer.
The pen falls and scares the wind and rain, and the poem becomes a crying ghost.
Since then, the name has never been extended.