唐·杜牧《过华清宫·其一》

长安回望绣成堆，
山顶千门次第开。
一骑红尘妃子笑，
无人知是荔枝来。

Passing by the Splendid Palace

Looking back, Chang’an looks like brocades in a heap;
On the hilltop hundreds of gates open one by one.
A steed raises red dust; the consort smiles sweet.
None knows how many steeds bring litchis on the run.