1, Qingming Rijiu (Song) Gaozhu; There are many tomb fields in the north and south hills, and the Qingming sweeps each other. Paper ashes fly into white butterflies, and tears are dyed into red azaleas. When the sun goes down, the fox sleeps in front of the grave, and the children smile at the lights when the night returns. As long as you are alive, enjoy your wine and indulge yourself. In the grave after your death, you can't taste a drop.
2, "Qingming Day Qujiang Huaiyou" (Tang) Luo Yin; Jun and Tiansu are old friends, so I'm going to make friends. For two years, I have been isolated from the grave and have a sad face all day. Seagulls seem to be able to keep up with physics, while apricot flowers are suspicious and accompanied by people's worries. Widows and young children should eat cold food and look at Jiangling with tears.
3, "Little Crimson Lips" (Song) Wu Wenying; Now it's clear, and the flowers are not on Xiyuan Road. Tender shade and green trees. This is the place where spring stays. Swallows return, and the past flows eastward. Collect shirts and store them. A wisp of old cold Tears wet the curtain.
4. Chang 'an Qingming (Tang) Wei Zhuang; Fleas are rainy days that hurt spring dreams, but the grass is more sandy. At the beginning, the official gave me a clear fire, and I was given a free share of the money. The purple stranger is screaming and screaming, and the green poplar is drawing a swing. Tourists think of the peace incident and feel glad that the scenery is as good as before.
5, "The Fisherman Liu Rumei" (Tang) Wei Chengban; Willow looks like eyebrows, clouds look like hair, and fog smells like snow. The dream startled, the clock missed, and Xiaoying was outside the window. A few affectionate, nowhere to tell, Tomb-Sweeping Day. Young lang, it's easy to say goodbye. Once you go, the book will be broken.
6. The Riverside Scene at Qingming Festival (Tang) Wei; Cold food prescription is sick, and it is awkward to open the chest. Finally, I miss the county seat, and fireworks filled Qingchuan. Apricot porridge is still delicious, and elm soup has been slightly fried. I just hate being a good girl, kissing my face and spending this glorious year.