During the awn season, the middle and lower reaches of the Yangtze River in my country have successively ushered in the plum rain season, also known as the yellow plum day, so it is named after the yellow ripening period of plums in the Jiangnan area. The continuous patter of plum rain seems to always affect people's deepest feelings. Throughout the ages, there are many poems describing the plum rain season, so let us feel the gentle feelings of ancient poets.
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Make an appointment with Zhao Shixiu of the Song Dynasty
In the yellow plum season, every house rains and the grass pond Frogs everywhere.
I didn’t come over at midnight because I had an appointment, so I knocked on the chess pieces and let the lanterns fall.
Qingyu Case·Hengtang Road Song Dynasty·He Zhu
Lingbo could not reach Hengtang Road, but he watched Fangchen go. Who will spend the golden years?
In the Yueqiao Garden, with its small windows and red doors, only spring is known.
The blue clouds are rising slowly into the twilight sky, and the colorful pen is filled with new heart-breaking sentences. How much leisure and sorrow do you have?
Yichuan tobacco, the city is full of wind and rain, and plums are yellow and rainy.
Lang Tao Sha Bai Juyi of the Tang Dynasty
Thousands of miles in Qingcao Lake,
One person walks in the yellow plum rain.
I am worried about seeing the night mooring on the beach,
The sound of wind and dark waves hitting the boat.
Partridge Sky Yan Jidao, Song Dynasty
The misty catkins fly on the street,
The cuckoo sings among the azaleas.
At the end of the year, I don’t go back.
I blame the moon and worry about who the smoke is.
The plum rain is thin and the morning breeze is gentle.
The people leaning on the building want to wet their clothes.
The flowers in my hometown have faded three times,
The beauty has not returned from the end of the world.
Cranes soaring into the sky Zhou Bangyan of the Song Dynasty
The plum rain is coming, the summer wind is gentle, and there are many cicadas in the tall willows.
The small garden terrace is far away from the waves of the pond, and the fish are playing with the new lotus.
Gauze kitchen, light feather fan, pillows and mats to cool the deep courtyard.
At this time, the mood is at this time, nothing happens to the little fairy.
Ding Feng Bo Xin Qiji of the Song Dynasty
The weeds and flowers are no longer spring, but the cuckoos are old knowledge.
It’s better to go home and live in the rainy season, and the pomegranate flowers are gone again.
The ministers in the front hall and the ladies in the palace wear ocher robes and red scarves.
Don’t ask about the rise and fall of today’s masters. Listen, the hairiness before the flowers is already embarrassing.
Under the bridge, a pair of goldfish play in the water, and a bird by the water is grooming its new feathers.
The sweater is not wet in the yellow plum rain, and the raindrops on the river are particularly delicate.
The charming figure is often accompanied by the weeping willows, with purple swallows flying high outside the willows.
A beautiful woman in a high pavilion plays a jade flute, with a silk ribbon hanging on the edge of the flute.
Exquisite tapestry and fragrant Buddha's hand, with a fan in hand to watch the river tide.
When the tide is flat, the sails are steady on both sides of the bank. I sit firmly in the boat and rock slowly.
Swinging into the Xihe River, it is getting late, and the evening window is lonely and boring.
Chatting and pushing open the screen window to watch the desolation, the misty clouds are falling and being knocked by the water.
Knocking on the door and asking about the rooftop road. There is a broken bridge when passing by, and peach trees are planted beside the bridge.