[Art Picture Language] 2023.04.18 Mo Xuantu ponders poetry

The brilliant day lily flowers grow under the north hall. The south wind blows his heart, shaking it for whom to spit. A loving mother leans on her door with love, but a wanderer's journey is painful. The sweet taste is sparse every day, and the sound is blocked every day. Looking up at the cloud forest, I feel ashamed to hear the words of the wise bird. .