Tang Dynasty: He Zhangzhi
Young people leave home, old people return, and the local accent has not changed.
When children meet strangers, they will smile and ask where the guests are from.
I left my hometown when I was young and didn't come back until my twilight years. Although my local accent hasn't changed, my hair on my sideburns has become sparse. None of the children knew me when they saw me. They asked with a smile, where did this guest come from?
2. "Long song"
Han Dynasty: Anonymous
The trees in the garden are lush, and the crystal dew rises in the sun.
Spring fills the earth with hope, and everything presents a scene of prosperity.
I am always afraid that when the cold autumn comes, the trees in Ye Er will turn yellow and the grass will wither.
The river runs to the sea, and when will it return to the west?
If young people don't work in time, they will only regret for life when they are old.
Sunflower vegetables in the garden are flourishing and soaring in the crystal morning light. Spring scatters hope all over the earth, and everything shows prosperity. I am always afraid that the cold autumn will come, the leaves will turn yellow and the grass will wither. When can a hundred rivers run to the sea and return to the west? If young people don't work hard in time, they will only regret it for a lifetime when they are old.
3. Young Beauty Listening to the Rain
Song Dynasty: Jie Jiang
Teenagers listen to the rain and sing upstairs. The red candle is weak. Listening to the rain on the boat in the prime of life. The river is wide and the clouds are low, and the broken geese are called the west wind.
Now listen to the rain monk Lu. The temple is full of stars. Sorrow and joy are always ruthless. Before the next step, drop by drop until dawn.
When I was a child, I listened to the rain on the rostrum, red candles lit up, and the curtains were light in the dim light. Middle-aged people, on a boat in a foreign country, are watching the drizzle, the vast river, the water and the sky, the west wind, and a lonely goose that has lost its flock moans.
Now, people are old, with white hair on their temples, and they are alone at the monk's house, listening to the drizzle. The experience of life's joys and sorrows is ruthless, so let the rain drop by drop on the steps until dawn.