(一)独坐幽篁里,弹琴复长啸。林深人不知,明月来相照。诗人的情怀,永远含在那一声长啸里……磨着时间的齿轮,在竹林里点燃一盆金纸,听琴声着火的声音,看露水把余韵覆灭,诗人沉默,像一支竹子守望着凉月。梦里的故事也许不会出现高山流水那一幕。谁需要走进你的梦里?清竹?琴声?冷 (A) sit alone in the quiet, play the piano complex long shout. Lin deep people do not know, the moon will come to meet. The poet’s feelings are always contained in the shout.... The gear that grinds time, a pot of gold paper is lit in the bamboo forest, the sound of the piano is on fire, the dew is destroyed by the dew, and the poet is silent, like a bamboo watcher. Cool months. The story of a dream may not show the scene of high mountains and flowing water. Who needs to go into your dreams?