"Self-written Five Memory Songs" on paper, cursive script. The length is 29.3 cm and the width is 294.7 cm. Collection of the National Palace Museum, Taipei.
This scroll is unrestrained and full of splendor. Wang Chong's lower pen is stiff, only slightly rounded where the pen is turned, so the strokes are rough and sharp. Although this is a work of Jincao, almost every word is independent, and the handwriting has the meaning of Zhangcao. For example, the ending of the characters such as "Mian", "Tai" and "Crack" in the scroll are still preserved in official script. The charm. This piece of calligraphy was written by Wang Chong when he was thirty-five years old. It was written on the hard Jinsu Shanzang Sutra paper. It can better express the characteristics of Wang Chong's ups and downs, rapid and powerful brushwork. It is a masterpiece handed down from generation to generation.
Wuyi Song. Orderly. Bingxu suffered from heatstroke. The city is like a steamer. The pillow is empty and the book is empty. You Shen Liuhe. Play the song of five memories. Steaming to relieve troubles. It’s also like thinking of those who hold heat.
What I remember is Kuanglu Spring. Flying straight down to the top of the incense burner. The Milky Way is the source of Pengli Committee. The southeast sky is boiling forever. Left and right shot Wulao but. The clothes are so wet that I worry about climbing. The cliff is leaning against the stone and the thunderbolt is fighting. Withered vines and strange trees have dragons hanging over them. Paintings wash out of the screen. The sound of jumping beads and jade splashing was loud. Who can place me among the rocks? Sleeping under the falling snow and water on my back. Drunk and drunken, it is like a mist. Mountain spirits whirled in the air. Woohoo, my song begins. The vast sun is in sight in Jiujiang.
What I remember is the pines of Mount Tai. Emperor Qin took shelter from the rain and stationed himself at Liulong. The roots are like iron, stone and bronze. The branches are covered with velvet. The pupil is hanging on the sun and the fusang is small. Faintly towering emerald green. I don’t know how many phoenixes and phoenixes there are. The harmonious sound below is like a sheng yong. The sound of the waves echoes with the East China Sea. You can see Penglai Peak from the top. Gold paste and jade liquid scattered into the ground. Poria cocos and Zhi grass grow in mid-winter. If you cook it and eat it, you won't die. When will Yun Che come to meet you? Woohoo, I sing. The song is long. The Yellow River flows at dusk.
What I remember is the snow in Emei. In June, the cliff is so cold that it cracks. Immortals walk barefoot on green rocks. The crane's cloak flutters and the jade is bright and clean. Go back and blow away the five streams. Falling catkins and flying flowers fill the city. Dibopengpoxi Haitou. The dark wind is miserable and the pole is broken. Thousands of miles of yellow clouds will not flow. A layer of ice caps the winter and summer knots. I want to swim to the top with my sword. The stone stacks and ladders are unique. The six dragons dare not live their lives again. The cold light shone through thousands of feet of iron. Woohoo, I sing, the song is good. Taibai does not move and the sky is high.
What I remember is the bamboo from Weichuan. Thousands of acres of green in the deep mountains of Daze connect to Hanguan Cloud. Bizarre and staggered Lantian jade. The lush green phoenix flutters its feathers. Cang Longyao chased the others. The mourning valley is gloomy and the day is cold. Green hills tower above the long forest. Wild people are obsessed with fishing in Yuxi. The mountain people lost Wangguan Valley. Insects and books are embroidered with ancient moss on the stone. Flying waterfalls in the air. An Deqing is as crazy as Ziyou. Carrying Ce and riding two deer to the west. Woohoo, I sing and dance. Long-sleeved shirt.
What I remember is the Yellow Crane Tower. Xiaoxiang Dongting is born in autumn. Climb high and reach thousands of miles. The strong winds shook all the time. Nine doubts are like a barrier. The day is dark and the clouds are sad. The east climb is like a tree branch. Looking to the west, the snowy ridge is freezing. The red curtains and embroidered pillars are in the sky. When I reach the shadow, I shoot the Cangjiang River. The immortal sits and plays the purple jade flute. Often fly to the Parrot Island. Don’t smash the Qinglian layman to pieces. Then you have to drink as much as you can. Woohoo, I sing more and more anxiously. The swans are clear and the sky is green.
I wrote this song last year. Wu Zi Xia Wu. He and Ming Qing Yan Yu Qian had Feitang. The new summer heat is poisonous. Sweat like rain. I have thoughts of rivers and seas. So I wrote this as a gift. Yayizi is the favorite of the king.