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.
Wind and fire in March, a letter from home is worth a ton of gold, 4 withered vines, old trees, faint crows, small bridges and flowing water, old roads and thin horses.
* * * Tears at the full moon, for the heart, five places, all sick with the same wish.
Where homesickness accumulates, there is world turmoil. The shore is long and the group is late, and the lake is wide and sails in autumn. Buy wine over fishermen, divide the lights and fish the boat. When Xiaoxiang sees a goose, it is advisable to travel alone.
When * * * cuts candles at the west window, it talks to the rain at dusk.
Wine turns into sorrow, into acacia tears.
You come from my old country. Tell me what happened there! . When you pass by my window, are plum blossoms blooming? (Wang Wei's miscellaneous poems)
Under the blue mountain, my boat and I meandered along the green water. Until the river bank widens at low tide, and no wind blows my lonely sail. ... the night now gives way to the ocean of the sun, and Jiang Chunren was in the old year. I can finally send my messenger, the wild goose, back to Luoyang. (Wang Wan: a berth at the foot of Beibao Mountain)
It has been ten frost in Bingzhou, and I miss Xianyang day and night. For no reason, I crossed the mulberry river, but I hope that Bing is my hometown. (Liu Zao: "Journey to the North")
It's foggy in Kesash, and the mountains and rivers are deep here. In autumn, the sound of the beach is more urgent and the canyon is overcast. Looking at the clouds to cover your eyes, homesick for raindrops. How will you comfort your loneliness? Thanks to this north window piano.
Outside the ridge, the sound is broken, winter returns to winter and spring returns to spring. The closer I get to my hometown, the more timid I am, afraid to inquire about people from home. (Song Wenzhi, "Crossing the Han River")
Cold food after a trip, homesickness and tears. The sound book is broken in the sky, and the peach and plum spring rain. Not in the mood to drink, but there is reason to sing. How many people lost outside his suburbs and went out for an outing.
Driving along the river, homesick step by step. Raise the whip and wave the willow color, and then lose the cicada sound. Long road of autumn crops, about the ancient city of Leng Yun. The family is poor and rich, and there is no land to return to farming.
It's only seven days in spring and two years away from home. The day of returning home is behind the bird's return to the earth, but the idea of returning home has existed before the spring flowers bloom. (Xue Daoheng: "People are homesick every day")
The water brings you the feeling of home and makes your boat travel 300 miles.
But I looked at my hometown, and the twilight was getting thicker, and the mist of sadness was filled on the river waves.
Young people leave home, old people return, and the local accent has not changed. Where do children come from when they meet strangers? (He Zhangzhi: Homecoming Book)
The drums of the defenders cut off people's communication, and a lonely goose was singing in autumn in the frontier. The dew turns to frost tonight, and the moonlight at home is bright! Brothers are scattered, and no one can ask about life and death. Letters sent to Luoyang city are often not delivered, and wars often do not stop. (Du Fu: "Remembering Brothers on a Moonlit Night"
Yu Di's dark flying sound scattered into the spring breeze in Los Angeles. In this nocturne, the willow is broken, and no one can afford to be homesick. (Li Bai: The Flute in Los Angeles on a Spring Night)
A glass of turbid wine belongs to Wan Li, and the tube is strong and full of frost.