The poems used to express condolences to ancestors during the Qingming Festival are as follows:
1. Su Shi, the son of Jiangcheng. Ten years of life and death are so vast that I cannot forget them without thinking about them. Thousands of miles of lonely tomb, nowhere to say desolation. Even if we meet each other, we should not know each other, our faces are covered with dust and our temples are like frost. At night, I suddenly returned to my hometown with a deep dream. I was dressing up outside the small window. They looked at each other without words, only a thousand lines of tears. It is expected that the broken part of the intestines will be cut off every year, on a bright moonlit night, there will be short pines. This poem was written by Su Shi in memory of his late wife Wang Fu.
2. Su Shi in Xijiang Moon. The jade bones are filled with mist, and the ice muscles have their own fairy wind. People from all over the world are sent to explore the fragrant bushes, and there are green-haired phoenixes hanging upside down. Plain face often looks too pink (氵万), and lipstick does not fade after washing makeup. High sentiments chase the dawn clouds in the sky, and do not dream of pear blossoms. This is a mourning poem in memory of Chaoyun, the concubine who followed Su Shi for twenty-three years.
3. Half-dead Tong·Partridge Tianhe cast. Everything will go wrong if you go through the Chang Gate. We came together and returned home differently. After the parasol trees were half dead and the frost cleared, the white-headed mandarin ducks flew away without their companions. The grass on the original grass shows the first light. The old habitat and the new ridge are both close to each other. Lying on an empty bed listening to the rain outside the south window, who will stay up late at night to mend clothes? In mourning for He Zhu's deceased wife.
4. When will this hatred end? The steps are empty, the rain breaks in the colder weather, and the weather is full of flowers. The soul has been dreaming for three years, and it is time to wake up from the dream. Materials are also felt, and the world is tasteless. It is not as dusty as the night platform, deserted and a place of sorrow. The promise was abandoned. If there is a Pisces in Chongquan, it will be sent. I wish I could know him, who I can depend on for all my joys and sorrows over the years. I have turned sideways since the middle of the night, and I can't bear to listen to the Xiang string and pay attention to it.