2. The ancient poem "Jiangchengzi" about missing children → Qin Guan
The willow in Xicheng is soft in spring, moving away from sorrow, and tears are hard to collect. I still remember my feelings. I once went back to the boat for the department. On Bi Ye Zhu Qiao's Day, people disappeared and the water ran out.
Young people don't stay for teenagers, but when do they rest? When the flying catkins are falling, when they climb the stairs, they burst into tears and worry a lot.
Hedges are sparse and deep,
The flowers at the top of the tree are not shady.
The children chased Huang Die,
Flying into cauliflower is nowhere to be found.
Jiangchengzi sushi
I said juvenile madness, which led to yellow on the left and pale on the right. Golden hair carving autumn, thousands of odd volumes leveling posts. To report
The whole city followed the satrap and shot the tiger to see Sun Lang.
I drank wine, my mind was broadened, my courage was more heroic, and my sideburns were slightly white. Why not? When will Feng Tang be sent to the clouds? Wan Hui
Carve a bow like a full moon, look northwest and shoot Sirius.
Young people leave home, old people come back,
Cui's accent has not changed.
The children don't know each other,
Where did the laughter come from?
Time: Northern Song Dynasty
Author: Li Qingzhao
Works: like a dream.
Content:
I often think of dusk by the river.
As drunk as a fiddler, we didn't remember anything on the way back!
After having a good time, we rowed home.
Mistaken into the depths of lotus.
Fight for crossing, fight for crossing,
Frightened, all the egrets in the shallows flew away.
Long song line/long song line
Han Yuefu poems
The sunflower in the green garden,
Morning dew waits for the sun.
Yangchun budeze,
Everything is wonderful.
I am often afraid of autumn festivals.
The leaves of yellow flowers are rotting.
From the east to the sea,
When will you go back to the west?
If you are young and don't work hard,
The boss is very sad.
The ugly slave book on Boshan Road
Xin Qiji
Teenagers don't know the taste of sorrow and fall in love with the floor. Fall in love with the floor and worry about adding new words.
Now that I know the taste of sadness, I want to say it. I want to say I'd better have a rest, but I said it's cold and autumn.
3. Li Bai's < & Long stem type >>,
My hair barely covers my forehead. I am picking flowers and paying by my door.
When you, my love, ride a bamboo horse, run in circles and throw your childhood.
We live in an alley in Qingkan. We are all young and happy.
When I was fourteen, I became your wife, and I was too shy to laugh.
I bowed my head and went to the dark corner, unwilling to pay attention to your thousands of calls.
But at the age of fifteen, I raised my eyebrows and laughed, knowing that no dust can seal our love.
Even to death, I will wait for you in my post, and I will not lose heart in the silent watchtower.
When I was sixteen years old, you embarked on a long journey, crossing the Qingtang Canyon full of rocks and swirling water.
Then the fifth month, I couldn't help it anymore. I tried to listen to the monkeys in your distant sky.
I looked at the place where you walked, your footprints in front of our door, each hidden under the green moss.
Hiding under the moss is too deep to sweep away, and the first autumn wind adds leaves.
Yellow butterflies in August, hovering in the grass of our West Garden in pairs.
Because of all this, my heart is broken, and I am worried that my bright cheeks will fade.
Oh, finally, when you come back through three Pa areas, send me a message home in advance! .
I'll pick you up, and I won't mind the distance, all the way to Sha Changfeng.
4. I miss the poetry of teenagers, miss the teacher's collection of clouds as an elegy, and remember the teachings with tears.
The words written on the palm of your hand are sad now. I miss the teacher sowing sweat in the cool summer, and I have no regrets when the wax torch turns to ashes.
Although it was farewell, I still looked at the sky with a smile. A grateful heart feels that it has gone, and a grateful heart will be rewarded in the future.
Regret is in the heart, and mistakes are like the wind. My heart is like a drop of rain, which keeps flowing.
I will miss it when I get old, and the relationship between teachers and students remains the same. Praise the teacher's poem 1: Four spring weathers into rainy days, and several autumn rains wash the gap.
Black hair and frost weave the sun and the moon, and chalk writes the spring and autumn without words. Before the spring is old, the silk spits, and the candle tears turn into gray and autumn is thicker.
Peach and plum are sown in three thousand gardens in spring, and Qiu Lai is rich in China fruits. Praise for the teacher's poem 2: I love the teacher like a red candle, which ignites the fire in the students' hearts, but burns itself until the red candle turns to ashes.
Teachers, like gardeners, feed our flowers, but work hard for themselves until their physical strength is exhausted. We must become the pillars of the country when we grow up! The teacher is so selfless! Ah! Teacher, we love you! Praise the teacher's poem 3:-Teacher, who is hard-lead us into the spacious classroom and teach us a wealth of knowledge? It is you! Teacher! With your hard sweat, you have nurtured the tender seedlings that have just broken ground in spring.
Who is it-educating naughty people into people who can help others? It is you! Teacher! Your care is like a warm spring breeze, which warms our hearts. Who is it-to train young people into mature and sensible teenagers? It is you! Teacher! Your protection makes us grow up healthily.
The autumn season is fruitful. You have worked hard! Teacher! People who work hard in the heat and cold.
You have worked hard! Teacher! Dedicate youth to nothingness. We pay high tribute to you! -You have worked hard, teacher! I can only help you here, old teacher-you are like a drizzle in spring, nourishing flowers and irrigating the earth, and we are also trying to suck the drizzle and grow.
Teacher-you are like an autumn breeze, blowing the yellow land and calling for rice. We have a bumper harvest. Teacher-in my dark life, you lit the brightest lamp for me; Teacher-you are the guide on my misty life; Teacher-you pointed out the direction for me in my rough life; Teacher-you gave me a pair of powerful wings, let me travel in the world of knowledge! Praise the teacher's poem 4: the golden wind sends laughter, and the osmanthus floats.
Today's teacher's holiday is coming again. Teachers have worked hard for our growth.
We will never forget the teacher's love for us. Hello, teacher! People compare teachers to red candles, which illuminate others and burn themselves.
People compare teachers to gardeners and cultivate peaches and plums all over the world. Teachers are the noblest career in the world.
The teacher gave us ideal sunshine and wisdom sunshine. The teacher guided us to the path of sunny life.
Teachers expect us to be the sun in the new century. The teacher's words moisten my heart like spring rain.
The teacher watered our growth with the rain of knowledge. Gentle spring rain is the teacher's love for us.
The teacher's words and deeds are like spring rain. The teacher is willing to be a green leaf and hold us up as red flowers.
The teacher is a green leaf, willing to contribute silently. The green leaves symbolize that teachers are always young.
When we bloom like flowers, we will never forget the kindness of green leaves. Teachers are like trees, with blue sky overhead and feet on the earth, silently benefiting the society.
Teachers are big trees, bringing spring scenery to the world. The teacher sowed the seeds of hope and cultivated us into a forest.
Young trees grow into pillars, never forgetting the gardener's cultivation. Yes, teachers' enthusiasm is like the sun, teachers' teaching is like spring rain, teachers' style is like green leaves, teachers' career is like a tree, and our teachers are good. Praise the teacher's poem 5: You present a flower, I present a flower, let's weave a big wreath and give it to my dear teacher and mother.
It is you who gave the seeds, the warmth like sunshine; It was you who watered the seedlings with sweat. Your eyes are like bright stars, shining with charming brilliance; Your singing is like a clear spring, which brings joy to everyone.
Wherever we go, always remember your feelings; No matter where we go. Always remember your words.
Wherever we go, always remember your love; Wherever we go, it will be a flower of yours. Praise the teacher's poem 6: September, as scheduled.
Therefore, the world is brilliant. We sing September, because it is your eternal festival.
We remember September because it was our sincere confession. September is an emotional cup. We hold high our sincere wishes with our hands. Please drink a toast.
The music has been played in September, please accept our gifts in September, all the teachers who are struggling in the education front. Psalm 7: I remember that your hands were covered with powder. I remember your kind teaching. I remember your new silver hair. Because of you, many students can become talents. The world is so civilized because of you. Teacher, you are the guiding light for the lost children. You are an angel who praises the teacher. Psalm 8: Teachers praise others for getting gold from life. You can only get flowers. Your gold is the morning sun. Your silver is the moon of the fifteenth. But you still whistle happily. Your pride is peaches.
5. Poems recalling the friendship between teenagers: Young beauty listens to the rain.
Author: Jie Jiang genre: Ci
Teenagers listen to the rain in the song building,
The red candle is weak.
In the prime of life, listening to the rain on the boat,
The river is wide and the clouds are low, and the broken geese are called the west wind.
Now listen to the rain monk,
The temple is full of stars.
Sorrow and joy are always ruthless,
Before the next step, drop by drop until dawn.
-
Tang duoling
Author: Liu Guo genre: Ci
Reed leaves are full of Tingzhou, and the cold sand belt is shallow.
Twenty years have passed, South Tower.
Liu Xia's mooring is not stable yet, but it will be the Mid-Autumn Festival in a few days.
The yellow crane broke the rock head. Have you ever been there?
Old rivers and mountains are new troubles.
I want to buy osmanthus with wine, but I don't like it.
-
journey
Author: Liu Yong genre: Ci
On the ancient road of Chang 'an, riding a thin horse slowly, Gao Liu Qiu Chan screamed.
Outside the sunset bird, the autumn wind and the moon are on the original, and the eyes are broken for four days.
The clouds that have gone are traceless. Where is the expectation of the past?
The spirit of debauchery has faded, and there are fewer drinking companions in the past. Now I am not as young as before.
-
Recall a teenager
Author: Chao
Infinite official willow, no willow painting Ge, no root walker.
Nanshan is still seeing each other off, only separated by high city people.
Painting garden and brook garden, all over again, all in the past.
Liu Lang's sideburns are like this, the color of peach blossoms.
-
Ugly slave writes about the middle wall of Boshan Road.
Author: Xin Qiji genre: Ci
Teenagers don't know the taste of sadness,
Love the floor, love the floor,
Worried about adding new words.
Now I know what it's like to be sad,
Say it if you want.
But it is a cool autumn.
-
Bodhisattva is beautiful
Author: Wei Zhuang genre: Ci
Now that I think of Jiangnan music,
I was young and thin at that time.
Riding on a sloping bridge,
Covered in tea.
Cuiping gold buckle,
Indulge in flowers.
Seeing the flowers at this angle,
Never come back.
6. Ask for a poem that misses childhood.
Dai wangshu
Holding an oil-paper umbrella,
Wandering alone for a long time,
Long and lonely rain lane,
I hope to meet a girl as sad as lilac.
She has the color of lilacs,
Lilac-like fragrance,
Sad as cloves,
Mourning in the rain,
Sadness and hesitation;
She wandered in the lonely rain lane,
Holding an oil-paper umbrella, like me,
Silently, like me,
Cold, sadness and melancholy.
She approached quietly,
Approaching,
Cast a sighing look,
She drifted like a dream,
As sad and confused as a dream.
Like lilacs floating in a dream,
I passed this girl by;
She walked away silently,
Far away,
A crumbling fence,
Walk through this rainy path.
In the lamentation of the rain,
Remove her color,
Spread her fragrance,
Dissipated,
Even her sighing eyes
Lilac is melancholy.
Holding an oil-paper umbrella,
Wandering alone for a long time,
Long and lonely rain lane,
I hope to float past a girl as sad as a lilac.
7. A word about missing children 1. This yearning is so lingering. It hovers in front of my eyes, haunts my ears and precipitates in my heart.
Missing is torture, and I can't wait to fly home at once, but life is realistic. Put up with a lot for money, miss your son. I will soon try to bring my son to Shenzhen to live with us, away from the pain of missing and live a happy life.
My four-year-old son always misses his parents recently. Every time he calls, the most frequently asked question is his mother. What time are you coming back? The watermelon at home is ripe. He may have told him before. When the watermelon is ripe, he will go home to see him. I didn't expect the little guy to always remember what I said.
Mothers all over the world may have to go through the pain of being separated from their children. The mother raised the child physically and mentally, but the child can't always belong to the mother. After the children left home, the mother had endless worries and long thoughts.
The thread in the hand of a kind-hearted mother makes clothes for her wayward 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?