Poetry describing hot weather

This poem describing hot weather is as follows:

1. Wang Gu's bitter and spicy journey in Tang Dynasty. Zhu Rong came to whip the Southern Fire Dragon, and the flame of the fire flag burned the sky red. The sun doesn't set at noon, and all countries are in the stove. The five mountains are green and withered, the clouds are gone, and the waves at the bottom of the sea are exhausted. Why didn't the golden wind blow overnight to sweep away the heat all over the world for me?

2. In the Song Dynasty, Mei's "Bitterness with Cai Zhongmou" was well-known and nothing could escape. Dry people want to get out of the fire, while liquid people want to shed ointment. Birds hate their feathers, and animals hate their hair. People are also afraid of embarrassment, and the situation is to wear a crown robe. Although Guangsha is backed by clouds, the wind does not move. Unknown nymphs, why are you different from me? Flies and mosquitoes stayed up all night, scratching their skin. Four sequences of iterations, crisp autumn.

3. Dai Fugu's "Five Fever Songs" in the Song Dynasty burned charcoal every day in June. Everything is this Tao Rong. Why do people complain about the heat? Look at the autumn colors of the hundred valleys, and they also bear fruit from summer. The water in the field boils like soup, and the sweat on my back splashes. Farmer Fang Xia Yun, I dare to eat if I can't sit still.

4. Liu Zongyuan's "Climbing the West Building on a Bitter Summer Night" in the Tang Dynasty started from a bitter night and climbed the building alone. The mountains and rivers condense in the midsummer heat, and the stars and Han people are bright. Fire crystal Gan Lu, wild still wind. Exploring the soup leads to the yin well, and the stove opens the door. You can't sweat if you hesitate for a long time. Don't argue about the poison in the pavilion, but appeal to you. I'm afraid it wasn't taken by my aunt, but quiet is better than happy.

5. In the Tang Dynasty, Li Bai's Ding Du Hugh was collected in Yunyang, and merchants on both sides of the strait were spared. Why bother tugboat when the black ox rests on the moon? Turbid water can't be drunk, and the pot pulp is half turned into soil. When you sing, your heart will cry. Ten thousand people cut stones, but they can't reach the river. You look at Shi Mang, and you hide your tears and grieve for the ages.