There is a picture in the poem, and there is a sound in the picture.
"Lone boat, coir and coir, fishing alone in cold river snow"
Tang-Liu Zongyuan's empty landscape, with the blue and white ink rhyme flowing on the sound.
Starting up is not only the flow of music, but also the arrival of an artistic conception through thousands of years: low frequency is as quiet as distant mountains, medium frequency is as deep as river water, and high frequency is as soft as snow falling.
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I like it
It's amazing with this snow field.
It's too artistic