A drizzling rain falls like tears on the Mourning Day; The mourner's heart is going to break on his way.
Excuse me, where is the restaurant? The shepherd boy pointed to Xinghua Village.
The Riverside Scene on Qingming Festival —— Tang Yinchang
In the late spring of Qingming, I look at the northern hills.
Flirting opens a new flame with a fire, and tung flowers make old branches.
Shen Ming was ashamed of the past and kept the banquet secret from his friends.
Not as good as a bird in the forest, moving Joe and feathers.
In memory of my brothers-Tang Wei Wu Ying in Tomb-Sweeping Day.
Cold food prescription is sick, and it is awkward to open the chest.
Finally, I miss the county seat, and fireworks filled Qingchuan.
Apricot porridge is still delicious, and elm soup has been slightly fried.
I just hate being a good girl, kissing my face and spending this glorious year.
Qingming Zhu
There are many tomb fields in the north and south hills, and the Qingming sweeps each other.
Paper ashes fly into white butterflies, and tears are dyed into red azaleas.
When the sun goes down, the fox sleeps in front of the grave, and the children smile at the lights when the night returns.
As long as you are alive, enjoy your wine and indulge yourself. In the grave after your death, you can't taste a drop.
Qingming-in front of Huang Songting's court
Every holiday season, I miss my parents, and the peaches and plums smile, and the Noda wilderness is only sad.
Thunder stung dragons and snakes, and the original vegetation in the suburbs was soft after the rain.
People beg to sacrifice my arrogant concubine, but people are willing to burn to death.
A clever fool has known who it is for thousands of years, and his eyes are full of chrysanthemum.