菊花
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《仪鸾殿早秋》
李世民，寒惊蓟门叶，秋发小山枝。
松阴背日转，竹影避风移。
提壶菊花岸，高兴芙蓉池。
欲知凉气早，巢空燕不窥。 -
《感遇四首之二》
唐·李白
可叹东篱菊，茎疏叶且微。
虽言异兰蕙，亦自有芳菲。
未泛盈樽酒，徒沾清露辉。
当荣君不采，飘落欲何依。 -
《过故人庄》
唐·孟浩然
故人具鸡黍，邀我至田家。
绿树村边合，青山郭外斜。
开轩面场圃，把酒。
敬老臣主，行吟咏菊名。 -
《菊花》
宋·欧阳修
共坐栏边日欲斜，更将金蕊泛流霞。
欲知却老延龄药，百草摧时始起花。 -
《中秋月》
唐·苏轼
暮云收尽溢清寒，银汉无声转玉盘。
此生此夜不长好，明月明年何处看。 -
《菊花》
元·李白
秋丛绕舍似陶家，遍绕篱边日渐斜。
不是花中偏爱菊，此花开尽更无花。 -
《画菊》
宋·郑思肖
花开不并百花丛，独立疏篱趣未穷。
宁可枝头抱香死，何曾吹落北风中！
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Falls last month,菊 opens in April.
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No flowers in May, yet wildflowers still bloom.
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Dane's wife to me is not mine; she is the one who made her own story.
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The long way to the gates leads to a garden where菊花 grows deeply and broady.
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It fills the air with the scent of spring, which brings forth flowers of all colors.
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The morning sun shone on her face, and she saw in her mirror an image of a beautiful girl.
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She has lost everything, including her home, but that doesn't mean she can give up her love for her son forever.
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It is my turn to make room for you. I want you to know that I am not here to sit and write alone.
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To my wife, I have written my own story. It is about the beauty of spring, the softness of fall, and the quiet serenity of the garden.
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It is Friday morning, and the day before yesterday, so it falls on a Sunday.
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I did not finish writing this poem because I was working late when I started. I missed taking a break earlier to go to bed.
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He told me everything he knew about the flower, but I didn't hear anything from him during my trip to the mountains.
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She doesn't know that anyone else has been to this place, and she doesn't know where they came from.
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The sun rose in a warm glow on her wings, a golden hue that made me smile.
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It was so late that I couldn't sit outside and watch the world turn gray like snow.
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She has fallen into the silence of a dark night when no one is listening to what she is saying.
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I will never forget her face, and it will remain with me long after the time when we met again in the garden.
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It rained hard on their way back home, but they saw only trees that were still alive.
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The east winds carried flowers to my grandmother's door, but she didn't know where they came from.
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He told me everything he knew about the flower, but I couldn't help feeling sad when he tried to share his news with me.
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She didn't even know that I was here in the morning, and I didn't want to miss her.
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The sun broke through the clouds to shine on them as they walked by.
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He had written this poem for me, but it is about what he saw when the flower was first sprouted, not about the one he wrote himself.
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I don't speak English anymore, but I still think that what I see around me reminds me of all the great people who have left their marks on my life.
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She didn't know how to talk to anyone else, and she said it out loud in front of the mirror.
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He had written this poem for me again, but I don't think he knows when he wrote his last line before leaving for a trip to a new country.
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It was Friday morning, but yesterday was Thursday, so it fell on Sunday again.
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The long way back to the gates leads to a garden where she grows wildflowers deep and broady.
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His wife is not mine; she is his own story. She says she doesn't know what will come of this life or his career yet, but that doesn't mean it's over.
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I am the one writing this poem. I want you to know that I don't have a personal story about my life, only about my feelings for her and all the emotions she has created in my mind.
