Poetry about silk 1. Poems about spring rain and silk
Tangliyu cold food
The jade wheel is raining on the river, and the son is drunk in spring.
The wind rushed back from the headland and the water splashed on the saddle of Paine goose.
Five drunken songs of Wei Zhuang in the Tang Dynasty when he was eating cold food outside Chen Bingcheng.
Rain, smoke and willows are clear, and the golden house is idle and warm.
Nothing happened all the way, and the sound of balloons came from across the street.
Song Xie Yi Yulouchun
Green money and water are round and green.
Solve a new jade problem.
The breeze in Ran Ran and the fragrant flowers of neem,
Xiaoyu plum is ripe.
Huatang candle is full of golden millet.
People are in caves.
Zhao Hua blew his pipe, which sounded very cold.
When the sound enters life, the red waves frown.
Song Chen writes like a dream.
Stay at Jiangwan Pingping at night.
At the beginning, Pinghua danced by herself.
The wind and rain are coming,
The tide on the river gave birth to a boat.
Look at it.
Look at it.
Wet oars don't scare seagulls.
Poems about spring and silkworms will be woven until they die.
Poems describing selfless dedication 1. No matter the flat land or the top of the mountain, infinite scenery is occupied. 2. Don't boast about the good color, just leave the air full of dried Kun. 3. After the flowers are picked into honey, who will work hard for whom? Silkworms in spring will weave until they die, and candles will drain the wick every night. Frown at a thousand fingers and bow like a willing bull. 6. Sleeping in a lonely village is not self-mourning, thinking about protecting the country. 7. Do your best until you die. 8. Broken into mud and ground into dust, only the fragrance remains. 9. Falling red is not a heartless thing, but turning it into spring mud protects flowers more. 30000006. Go without a leaf. 1 1. Sneak into the night with the wind and moisten things silently. 12. Be proud of your achievements in the Millennium and laugh at the frost and snow in winter. Life is quiet and indifferent, and life is good. You know from a distance that it is not snow, but a faint fragrance. +04 is still strong, and the wind blows east, west, north and south. 15. Section after section, thousands of branches and leaves accumulate. I don't blossom, so I don't tease bees and butterflies. 16. if you want to eliminate disasters for saints, you are willing to cherish your old age.
3. Ancient poems about silk
A grand reception
Tang Bai Juyi
On the red carpet, choose silk to be boiled and practice red and blue dyeing.
Dye it red and blue, weave it into a carpet and put it on the incense hall.
The incense hall is more than ten feet wide, and the red line is woven into a temple shop.
The colored silk is fragrant and fragrant, and the soft thread is empty;
Beauty is jumping, followed by stockings and embroidered shoes.
The carpet in Taiyuan is hard and hard, and the brocade in Shudu is cold;
Not so warm and soft, I come to Xuanzhou every October.
Xuanzhou satrap weaves with samples, claiming to be a minister who can do his best;
Centurions carry the same burden into the palace, and thick threads cannot be rolled.
Do you know the satrap of Xuanzhou? A carpet, 1200 silk,
I don't know if cold people should be warmer, wear less clothes and make lichens!
twills
Tang Bai Juyi
Miss the work of female workers
What is dazzling silk? Unlike Luo Kun and Wan Qi.
It should be like a waterfall spring 45 feet before the bright moon in Tiantai Mountain.
There are some great articles, white fireworks and snow on the ground.
Who weaves and dresses? Han, a cold girl from Yuexi.
Last year, Ambassador China made a statement, and samples fell from the sky.
Woven like autumn geese outside clouds, dyed like Jiangnan spring water color.
Wide-cut shirt sleeve dress, gold barrel ironing knife to cut patterns.
Extraordinary splendor and strange writing set each other off, and the flowers turn around indefinitely.
Zhaoyang dancers are very kind, and a spring dress is worth 1000 yuan.
Sweat is stained with powder, dragging the soil and trampling on the mud without pity.
It takes a lot of effort to weave brocade, which is incomparable to silk.
Many women's hands hurt when they are thin, and they can't tie a thousand words.
The singers and dancers in Zhaoyang Temple should also cherish the Weaver Maid when they see it.
4. Poems describing silk
Silk is a "noble" in textiles, rich and calm, and does not need painting.
Its quality is its trademark, and it shines when it is born. Silk is reminiscent of the lake, breeze, gentle waves, round fans, jasmine, butterflies and bamboo in Xiaoxiang Pavilion.
Silk should belong to classical women, especially oriental women. Make a long-sleeved shirt, a long skirt hanging to the ground, a shawl, etc. Elegant and reserved, it can set off the taste of oriental women.
It is precisely because diaosi, like a woman, is exquisite, can't be rude, and needs to be served with heart. Weaving palindromes is a heavy brocade, and the demon nature of the country is gorgeous.
Shuttles ring in the quiet night to promote spring, the leaves should be sparse, the flowers should be clever and dense. You can learn to write a sunflower by imitating a bird.
Show too late, moths are eager for disease; At first glance, it is smashed into pieces, or turned into a horse. Words flow in spring, and precepts come out.
So it is almost profound and clear; Zhu Yan began to think, and Jane began to understand. At the beginning, the suspected fragrant trees fell into the stream; Major General An Yan, if the sun shines on the bottom of the pool.
The five long winds have not dispersed, and the flowers have been washed by light rain. You are exposed to the forest cliff and out of the spring hole; Turn slowly and the wind will slow down.
Change back to phoenix slightly, and all the dances are phoenixes. A butterfly is far away, and Jiao Ying wants to make it.
Taking advantage of the spring harvest, the king paid tribute. Its color is heavy and bright, green as forbidden willow and red as palace flower.
Silk, free from the fresh life, is the pure life of silkworm, and then karma will come to your side, complete another cocoon breaking, and then snuggle up next to you, know a lot of things in your heart and tell you herself silently. Silk is the sound of falling into eyelashes. When you are not listening, it tells itself that it is far away, lonely and beautiful without shadow.
Put on silk in the hot sun, and the summer heat will calm down all the way. Smooth skin, cool mood and clear head.
At this time, the silk is like a fresh air floating on the blue lotus, with the smell of green, the smell of water, the smell of opening the window in the morning, and the joy in the eyes; Just like a strand of hair scattered between sleepy eyes, it gives you a loose grip on the bun you pick up at will. At this time, you left your eyes, walked to the mountains and forests, and walked on the wet stone road with dew.
Like water, silk wades into the wind with you, perhaps drifting away from your skin, so that you can breathe more lightly and comfortably at a little distance, and she is also immersed in joy and elegance. So, in this way, you have turned yourself into a Wei Yun and returned to some distant and beautiful places that have been restored.
When the weather is cool, filar silk will gradually fade away from the warm color, as calm as the unmanned water in the evening, and be swept away by the lightest wind, which looks like slow motion. Once empty, I can't see if that cloud is still underwater.
The deeper the season, the thinner it will look, and the colder it will be. In fact, her coolest expression is just the distant flute sound in the mountains with the moon.
Silk, fade out some feelings, do not have to hold an oil-paper umbrella, sadly into the deep rain lane. The eyes are comfortable, not even bound, never bound.
Elegant and euphemistic, pure and indifferent. She is neither charming nor beautiful.
With you, you can be rich or poor, you can be high-profile or bright, you can be lonely or silent. Even if a corner of the day is covered with moss, even if you are in the dark, or locked at the bottom of the cupboard, you must indulge in the worn-out old bronze mirror and the harsh sound of the phonograph.
Outside the wooden lattice window, every generation has the smell of sunshine or wet and cold rain, which is decadent and expensive without touching human fireworks. Silk can be the morning light as clear as glass or the night air as clear as water. It can be a girl next door with beautiful hair, or it can be a warm and peaceful elderly mother.
Silk, like snow, belongs only to women, and even the gentle gentleman's eyes can't get rid of the silky look. If you invite her to hand you her hand, she will never exert herself, but she will slide down with a light touch.
Therefore, using such harsh words on silk will definitely make people cherish it. But diaosi is always old, and she is also wandering in the wind and moon.
Old silk, the face will be dim, and the temples will gradually frost. And when you feel sorry for her, she must not have the slightest melancholy and sigh, but smiled at you in a gentle tone: "What does that matter?" Therefore, very old silk is still in my collection, and now it has slipped through my wrist, and it is still very expensive and smooth.
I like to taste the delicate light marks of years on her face, and I hope that one day, I will do the same. In the days with silk, the tone is just gently revealed from the eyes, floating in the wind.
So cicada-like troubles did not reach the depths of Bitan, and it was calm. In silence, I gradually felt some inner reserve begin to surge. It's a pure and pure concentration, so full that I want to overflow, integrate with oxygen-rich time and space, and integrate with a better life. In this way, I made silk
This shining silk in my eyes can also be pulled out of my own life, thus weaving silk days. Clouds and clear silks make people want to care and comfort those days and people who come to them in her delicate and gentle way. From then on, she was peaceful, forgot the troubled past, and returned to the time when filar silk flowed wholeheartedly.
Smooth as water, soft as smoke, elegant as clouds, like an ink painting, the texture of tobacco is rendered soft under the infiltration of rain and breeze. Woven like autumn geese outside clouds, dyed like Jiangnan spring water color.
Like an infatuated fairy, standing slim in the pear blossom, crying and feeling sorry for herself, like an affectionate teenager, staring at a lonely heart by the sunset river. Beautiful and sad scenery, ethereal attachment echoed by water droplets on a moonlit night, and lingering sadness of the soul on a rainy night.
My fair lady, clear water gives birth to hibiscus. Why not linger in the city and feel the elegant fragrance?
Unique national costumes set off autumn moon and spring flowers. Looking back and smiling, the fragrance is overflowing, and the beautiful colors cover the present. The lotus is shy and graceful, dancing and dancing lightly under the moving posture.
Mrs. Sandy, dressed in a graceful cheongsam, is graceful, smiling like a flower, with a gentle sound of jade, a bright moon like a light cloud, and snow like a return air. Didn't you see the silk satin, full of charm, praised by all gods, and the fairy danced?
Beautiful! Sanchi had a good time, but his leaves were in trouble. It's fun to meet a gentleman. Sanchi does. Its leaves are covered with grain, so why are you unhappy when you see a gentleman?
Sanchi has, its leaves are very quiet, seeing both gentlemen and sound hole glue. I love my heart, but I don't care if I am far away. If I hide it in the center, I won't forget it.
5. Who has a poem about the rain in Mao Mao?
Free flying flowers are as light as dreams, and endless silk rain is as fine as sorrow;
Fish come out in the drizzle, and Yan is inclined in the breeze;
The rain in Mao Mao didn't turn into rain, but it was gloomy.
The whirlwind blew the farewell wine, and the drizzle wet his friend's luggage.
Huayang Cave is full of clouds and wet with drizzle.
Broken flowers and half trees are silent,
It is drizzling all over the sky, and the wind is like sorrow.
Spring tide reflects the willow, and drizzle enters the balcony.
The drizzle is all over the river, the spring water rises, and the good wind keeps the guests fragrant.
On the river, people's peach branches shed their hedges in the cold spring rain.
Zhan Zhan arrived at the Yangtze River, and the drizzle came.
The willow silk hanging on the shore is drizzling, and the flowers embroidered in the field make the spring continuous.
Although the drizzle urges asparagus, the east wind dyes willow.
Night rain in the lotus pond, autumn color on the orange bank.
The drizzle is wet, and the grass hates every year.
Deep room Chun Zhu is old, and the night rain is sparse.
Screen empty pillow cold, ups and downs.
Drizzle peach blossom water, light gulls fly against the waves.
The guests scattered upstairs and the sails fluttered in the drizzle.
When the drizzle falls and the spring breeze falls, you can drink straight with a whip.
Drizzle wet clothes can't be seen, idle flowers fall to the ground and listen to silence.
Peach blossoms fall to the south village path, and the drizzle and oblique wind return alone.
The drizzle is warm and dusty, and several spring peaks are in the clouds.
Drizzle makeup, rain into the house.
The drizzle in the empty forest is silent, only sorrow meets heart.
As soon as the drizzle falls, the flowers swirl down and the leaves of Taoist priests are reborn.
The river is dripping, and the wind is full of violet sound.
It's drizzling on the Jiangting, and I remember Chu Township every day.
I usually sleep on the moon, not to mention the oblique wind and drizzle.
Thousands of willows and thousands of households, the breeze and drizzle fall the residual flowers.
It's mid-spring in Jiangnan, and it's drizzling like smoke.
The gentle wind is partial, and the drizzle does not touch the clothes.
Enough! ! !
6. Poems about strings
1, The Book of Songs
A beautiful and virtuous woman came to her with a couple and a couple.
2. Xiao Zhongshan of Yue Fei
You have to give your heart to Yao Qin. If you have few bosom friends, who will listen?
3. Chang Jian's Qin Xing on the River
Jiang Ju Yu Qin, with one string clear and one heart clear.
4. Li Shangyin's "Jinse"
"I want to know why my Jinse has fifty strings, each with a youthful interval.
5. Wei Zhu Li Guan
I leaned alone in the dense bamboo, playing the piano and humming a song.
6. Bai Juyi's Pipa Tour
... she turned the tuning pin and tested several strings, and even before she played, we could feel her feelings.
Every string is a kind of meditation, and every note is a kind of deep thinking, as if she were telling us the pain of her life.
Big strings hum like rain, and small strings whisper like secrets.
Humming, whispering-and then mixing together, like pouring large and small pearls into a plate of jade.
There is still a lot in this poem. Take your time to find it.