蒲团、香炉、古琴,这是一个叫业的僧人的居舍,清雅高远。日薄西山的时候,我站在山顶,松涛阵阵,晚风吹拂着我披散的长发,如衣袂轻扬。残阳如血,似天边留下的炙烈的烙印,我望着它的时候,它应着那句老话:落日衔山而不遽下;可我眨一下眼的时候,它已如沉舟一般溺在天边,只留下一角余 Futon, censer, and guqin, this is a home for the monks who call the industry, elegant and lofty. When the sun was thin in the mountains, I stood on the top of the mountain, bursting with pine trees, and the evening breeze blew on my long hair that was scattered. The sun is like the blood, like the fierce mark left by the sky, when I look at it, it should be the old saying: The setting sun will not be held down; but when I look at it, it is like a sinking boat. You are in the sky, leaving only one corner