Interpretation: deeper people stopped cutting clothes under the static silver lamp and turned their eyes to Miyagi Pearl.
2. The work is finished, and she sends it far away. When will it reach the town where the warrior stays? . Tang: Li Bai's midnight winter song.
Interpretation: I will send the cut clothes far away. When can we get to the border of Lintao?
3. I saw the broken spring shirt, and I saw it off at that time and worked as a tailor under the lamp. Song: Dai Fugu's "Magnolia is slow, birds are singing endlessly"
Interpretation: Look at that shabby spring dress shirt. I clearly remember that it was cut under the lamp all night when you sent it away.
For the tailor, you can see for yourself, the city is lonely in the night sky. Tang: Li Bai's The Lady of Lujiang
Interpretation: You are virtuous, sewing clothes for guests passing by your house. It's a pity that it's like a crow chirping alone in a tree on the wall.
5. Autumn frost wants to be a prophet, and the tailor's scissors at the bottom of the lamp are cold. Don: Bai Juyi's coldness has always been in my heart.
Interpretation: The autumn frost is approaching, and the jade hand has already felt the cold in advance. Under the cold lamp, she sewed a winter coat for her husband who was far away with cold scissors.
Last year, I left the goose and went home. Tonight, the tailor firefly flew. Don: Zhang Hong and in my heart forever.
Interpretation: Last year, geese flew south. Tonight, there is no sign of fireflies under the lamp.
7. The tailor has nowhere to wait. Tang: Meng Haoran's boudoir love
Interpretation: The wife is waiting at home alone and has to cut her affection into clothes.
8. Beauty is delicate and smooth, and the tailor broke all the stitches. Tang: Du Fu's Bai Sixing
Commentary: The female worker carefully made and ironed the dance skirt, which looked like an uncut dance skirt without any sewing marks.
9. I am afraid of tailors. Tang: China Women Weaving Yellow by Yu Shinan.
Interpretation: I am also afraid that after the tailor has finished the clothes, there is no way to send them to Jiaohe.
10. Miss Jun's behavior is farewell. He took off all the clothes of your tailor. Don: My concubines are unlucky.
Interpretation: I am going to die at the thought of my husband's trip, so my body is used as my husband's clothes to cut his grave.
2. What are the poems about tailors? 1. The tailor leaned against the silver lamp and looked at the king.
Tang: Interpretation of Wang Changling's "Five Poems of Long Letter and Autumn": Stop cutting clothes under the deep silver lamp and look at the Lord of the Palace. 2. The work is finished, and she sends it far away. When will it reach the town where the warrior stays? .
Tang: Interpreting Li Bai's Midnight Winter Song: When will you arrive at the border of Lintao and when will you cut your clothes and send them to a distant place? 3. I saw the broken spring shirt, and I saw it off at that time and worked as a tailor under the lamp. Song: Interpretation of "Magnolia is slow and birds crow endlessly": Looking at the shabby spring shirt, I clearly remember that it was cut under the lamp all night when you sent it away.
For the tailor, you can see for yourself, the city is lonely in the night sky. Tang: Interpretation of Li Bai's "Lujiang Master's House": You are virtuous, mending clothes for guests passing by your house.
It's a pity that it's like a crow chirping alone in a tree on the wall. 5. Autumn frost wants to be a prophet, and the tailor's scissors at the bottom of the lamp are cold.
Tang: Interpretation of Bai Juyi's Cold Always in My Heart: Autumn frost is coming, and the jade hand has already felt the cold in advance. Under the cold lamp, she sewed a winter coat for her husband who was far away with cold scissors.
Last year, I left the goose and went home. Tonight, the tailor firefly flew. Tang: Interpreting Forever in My Heart: Last year's parting was just flying south and north. Tonight, there are no signs of fireflies under the lights.
7. The tailor has nowhere to wait. Tang: Interpretation of Meng Haoran's Boudoir Love: The wife waited at home alone and had to cut her affection into clothes.
8. Beauty is delicate and smooth, and the tailor broke all the stitches. Tang: Interpretation of Du Fu's Bai Sixing: The dance clothes carefully made and ironed by women workers look like uncut dance clothes without any trace of sewing.
9. I am afraid of tailors. Tang: Interpretation of China Women Weaving Yellow by Yu Shinan: I'm afraid the tailor can't deliver the clothes to Jiaohe.
10. Miss Jun's behavior is farewell. He took off all the clothes of your tailor. Don: Interpretation of My Misfortune: Thinking of my husband's trip, he will die, and my body will be my husband's clothes and cut out his clothes.
3. Is there a poem "Mending a Broken Heart"? Who wrote the article "Mending a Broken Heart"/When you are insomnia, the pillow flies around, and the beautiful and enchanting poppy will be entangled in the heart door that can't be closed in its dream, such as dandelion that has fallen apart. I know you are the heaviest bag in the dark, but we agreed not to see your scenery, your words, your memories and the world with you. How cold the Jianghu doctor is, in the lonely shadow of the broken lamp, I repair my broken heart with strange and trembling hands. Neither she nor I have a folding fan in our hands. I didn't mention the birdcage. I'm just a conscientious farmer. My eyes lit up a little when she passed by, but I didn't whistle and didn't dare to open my mouth. She fell from the sky and smiled. Since then, there has been another gap in my heart. What a stupid doctor in the world. I look up at the stars every night. Unfortunately, I don't know astronomy. In a thatched cottage, I sewed mine.
4. Ancient homesick poems: wandering poets: Meng Jiao.
The mother used the needle and thread in her hand to make clothes for her long-distance son. Before leaving, I had a stitch for fear that my son would come back late and his clothes would be damaged. Who can say that a filial child like the weak can repay his mother's love like the sunshine in spring?
Tip:
Mother sewed clothes for her leaving son, and sewed them tightly when she left, fearing that he would not come back for a long time. Children are as long as grass, and it is difficult to repay the sunny maternal love in spring.
Vacation in the mountains reminds me of my brother in Shandong Author: Wang Wei
I am a lonely stranger in a strange land, and I miss my family more often during the holidays. If you know your brother from afar, there will be one less dogwood.
Tip: when a person is a guest outside, he misses his relatives more often during the festive season. Knowing that my brothers will climb mountains and wear dogwood at this time, they will definitely think that I am missing.
The poem about salvation raised the torch and the call of love, so the homesickness surrounded by dots, lines and groups was lost. Disaster danger and emergency rescue This is a spontaneous team name. The team leader is the humanitarian team leader. Dress warmly and refuse to be indifferent. Public welfare is in action. Blue sky rescue is also to rescue the blue sky. The persimmon is ripe. It transcends the ignorance of broken flowers and the shyness of appreciation. It lit a string of heart lamps, mature nectar, full of heavy self-sacrifice and affection. Looking back, fortunately, the figure is floating. Fu Ba stood on tiptoe and sweetly read the poem "Pointing to Heaven as Father", which touched the tip of the tongue. Twilight rolled and twisted, and the green on the sunny slope of the ridge could no longer bear the lift of the prime of life, so it turned into a brown stain of coughing up blood. It carries a heavy journey like a mountain, and the muddy white flowers blown by the wind crawl and bend straight to say goodbye. All the way to the west, it rained, and a handful of loess was always sent from the path soaked by the pear garden, which dyed the radian of the western heaven yellow. "Lu" means that heaven is the father. It is deeply rooted in the soil, and the desire to stand upright hollows out the heart. It's green, yellow and withered. The once melodious reed flute trembled, with a ragged smile, whispering all kinds of love winds, drizzling and pale harvest. Cold dew is dignified on the water side, regardless of the pain, and finally, with bones as firewood, it burns into a white sheep. "My white hair is full of news"-dedicated to the hard-working teachers, not only in spring, I cultivated and sowed on the holy soil, watching you dry up, watering, watching you swell, loosening the soil, righting the tilt coming from all directions, and finally, lovely, when you pulled the budding news from our shoulders, weeding, spraying, fertilizing, and cultivating and condensing. I will grow sturdily and see your ears full, and see my fruit press down year after year until the dew turns into frost. Bones in hometown: A good wooden bow can hold the sky when bent, without scratching the head of grandma's grandmother's back in the village. Vicissitudes trample on rivers and mountains. Your trembling waist, Mount Tai, can't fall down the barren mountain that has been eaten by hunger. The footsteps coming from you are stretched out on an empty stomach to help mother's thin silhouette. Now my back is imitated as a bridge, my hands and feet hold the root of the stone tightly, and my waist bridge stands firmly. I stand on a business card of prose poetry in my hometown of Jizhou. I have a picture book with a brand-new cover at the beginning, which is the age of parents' youthful appearance and two-inch black and white photos of the old house. My father, with his hair braided, left me side by side, and my brother wore a children's hat with a military emblem. My parents hold the family photos in our old house and photo album. The sweat and alkali crystals on my parents' coarse shirts are not enough to feed. Four pieces of goose yellow small mouth bone fracture, the old house leaks air and rain. The photo album with broken lines has been mended. After the four birds circled the beam, their arms spread high and stopped, and their parents squinted at the old house with white hair wrinkles. The vicissitudes of life in the pupil color photos are so striking. The father is old, and the child is old with crutches, and the photo album is mottled. My parents' smiles in my old house are cloudy but clear. My old house has gone to heaven with my parents, extending the love of three rooms and one living room. Now the heavy photo album is full of heavy feelings. I love you so much, my God, my rich soil, my parents, my old house are full of love, and the world is full of love.