The old news here is considerable, as far as the top of the mountain. Back to the rocks, facing the Takema family.
Turn over and want to ride a monkey crane, and watch Meng Guan frequently. The most important thing is that the bell is clear and the suspect will turn into a feather and fly to Lu' an.
Meng Xiang, a contemporary landscape poet, lingered here several times, leaving many poems:
Clouds are surging in the pines, and the songs of birds overlap. The octagonal clock travels a hundred miles, and the town is thousands of doors. Mistakenly regard Baoding as the golden summit and Dongshan as Mount Tai. It's not that there were many bandits in those days, but I saw Caijiawan today.
Once again:
Chaolai set foot on pavilions, which was clear at a glance and brilliant. Ran Ran Xu Yangzi, the vast sea of fog locks Yingzhou.
I lean on the cliff for three thousands of feet, and the Buddha laughs at the world of mortals for twenty thousand years. Drunk in Dongshan, good feng shui, cold view of the world to find prints.
In Ci Ke's works, Baoding Mountain is like a small Emei in eastern Chongqing, and a song titled "Shuidiao Song Tou" is even more popular:
Only then did I go to the Buddha in front of the temple and enjoy the Lingtou pine. Under the precipice, the misty sea of clouds locked Zheng Feng. Bamboo and rattan are steep, strange rocks are blooming in the valley, and birds are singing luxuriantly. From the sunrise in Ran Ran, a rhododendron is shining.
Watch the waves in the forest, chase stories and soak in the breeze. Holding a pot for rhyme, listening to Hong Zhong's drunken dream. Such an excellent holiday resort, like Yaochi Wonderland, lies in the east of Dianjiang River. It's Penglai guest. How many people have seen him?