羌笛150字

　　Open the frontispiece of poetry, like opening a thick and heavy in colours history.

　　Here is a thousand peaks on the bustling neon bright, also have zhumenjiurouchou road with frozen and desolate, both according to the moon between pine, clear spring stone upper has the sound of the horn in a leisurely and carefree mood, the autumn of the bloody.

　　When slow when I read these poems, except in the mind in the form of a piece of fantasy in the picture, there is a voice in my mind for a long time that is echoed, of its melancholy voice.

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