The poems suitable for reciting on the Double Ninth Festival are as follows:
Chapter 1:
The chrysanthemum leaves the branches and blooms into your eyes.
Today is the Double Ninth Festival again. Mother, your happy brow tells me that it is still hanging on the corner of my father’s mouth.
That drop of intoxicating osmanthus wine must be brewed by you. It must be brewed by you.
That drop of intoxicating osmanthus wine is still hanging on the corner of my father’s mouth.
Mother, your happy brows tell me.
Today is the Double Ninth Festival again, and the chrysanthemums have left the branches and bloomed into your eyes.
Chapter 2:
The hand of life brings you and me closer.
Get close, have a hot conversation, and be friends with high expectations.
Enjoy the beautiful space alone, smile knowingly and bloom the splendor of spring flowers.
Meeting on the Double Ninth Festival, climbing high and looking into the distance, there is a burst of vitality in the chest, and the rope of will is still as hard as steel.
Ah, life. Ah, friends. We add more beauty to life because of our fantasy mentality.
The autumn sun warms our hearts, old tears shed on the red leaves, and a long sigh to the sky cheers you and me up.
Stepping on the wheel of eternal youth, the country will be full of beauty in the coming year.
Chapter 3:
Ever since that full moon, you have been me.
Another straw in the river of lovesickness. Since it is grass, I don’t have high hopes.
But there is hope, I think it is better than nothing.
Next to the village, there is a hill that is not too tall.
But there are white-haired people every year, looking and looking at this day...
I don’t know how much autumn water I have seen, but the beauty is still there, on the other side of the water.
Chapter 4:
Shed off the biting cold clothes and run wildly on a piece of green grass.
Passing through a flame, in the scorching sun, I met a smiling lotus.
The bright eyes of April reflect the sadness of September. How could I not manage a piece of history carefully?
Let your gentle bow of your head plant the sorrow of my life.
Tonight, the Double Ninth Festival, I borrow a pot of nostalgia and drink alone by the west window.
From time to time, I hold a candle with the bright moon. It is the same Jinsha Laojiao, but it is difficult to regain the fragrance of the past.
Melancholy! Melancholy!
Who can ride a horse? Drive away my barren desolation!
Chapter 5:
On the Double Ninth Festival in September, the ribbon of homesickness is wrapped around the branches.
In the sigh of the yellow leaves is the melancholy of dreams, climbing high and looking into the distance.
The sunset looks sad, and the wild geese cry.
String the strings of autumn insects, my homeland thousands of miles away.
The father and mother with white hair and frost, turned into crazy tears in the smile of chrysanthemum.