Chongyang every year, and Chongyang today.
September 10 is an event.
Tang Libai
I climbed the mountain yesterday and lifted it today.
Chrysanthemum is too bitter, and it is the Double Ninth Festival.
White Chrysanthemum at Chongyang Banquet
Tang Bai Juyi
A yard full of golden chrysanthemums with a bunch of flowers in the middle, the flowers are so lonely.
Just like today's feast, the old man went to the place where the young man went.
Vacation in the mountains reminds me of my brothers in Shandong.
Don
I am a lonely stranger in a strange land, and I miss my family more often during the holidays.
When I think of my brothers' bodies climbing high, I will feel a little regret for not being able to reach me.
Xuanwu Mountain on September 9th.
Don Lu Zhao Lin
Looking at the mountains and rivers on September 9, returning to the heart and looking at the wind and smoke.
In another country, drinking Jinhua wine, Wan Li shares the same sorrow with Hongyan.
Nine-day mountain climbing
Don Dumu
On the river, the geese just flew south, and they made friends with wine and hip flask mountain.
Laughter makes people laugh, when chrysanthemums are in full bloom.
Only by indulging in the Double Ninth Festival, there is no need to sigh and hate the afterglow of the sunset.
After all, life is a short history, so why do you cry like Qi Jinggong?
Xie xinen
Nan Tang Li Yu
Ran Ran Qiu Guang can't stay, and the red leaves are full of dusk.
It's the Double Ninth Festival again, landing on the pavilion and fragrant dogwood.
Purple chrysanthemums, floating in the courtyard, rainy at night in the smoke cage.
Brave brave new swallow's cold voice, worried about similar age.
Zuihuayin Double Ninth Festival
Song liqing Zhao
The fog is thick and the clouds are light, and it will always be sad. The brain sells golden beasts.
The festival is also a double ninth festival, and the jade pillow gauze kitchen is half cold at night.
Dongli drinks until dusk, and faint chrysanthemum fragrance overflows his sleeves.
Mo Tao doesn't forget me, the curtain rolls west wind, and people are thinner than yellow flowers.
Nine-day mulberry picking
Qingnalanxingde
In late autumn, who will remember each other,
The leaves rustle and the country road is far away.
Liuqu Pingshan and Mengyao.
Good times cherish the scenery,
Not to climb high, but to feel lost.
Nan Yan is even more lonely after she comes back.