— Zheng Gu Over warm misty grassland wing to wing you fly. As fair and good as pheasants in the mountain high. When Grass-green Lake is darkened in rain, you pass by; When flowers fall on the Imperial Tomb, you cry. A roamer would wet his sleeves with tears on heating your song; His…
— Du Mu A drizzling rain falls like tears on the Qingming Festival; The wayfarers’ hearts are going to break on their way. Where can a wine shop be found to drown his sad hours? A cowherd points to a cot amid apricot flowers.