Poems about old houses 1. What are the poems describing old houses?
He Xinlang Meng Han Jinwu
Song Dynasty: Jie Jiang
Meng Han Golden House. She turned to the returning warbler and could recognize the old green marks on the screen. It is drizzling outside the window, and cherries and red beans are crystal clear and mellow. Do you know that this lovesickness is hard to reconcile? It's hard to say whether you know this kind of hatred, just like playing chess. The light reflected my thin figure, and the light of the candle was too bright.
Yuanyang clinks glasses and drinks upstairs, and the wine is poured into the wine. When will she meet again? When the palace eyebrows pass through the clouds, draw pictures. Painting Gong Mei as a moire, and painting her with raw silk, I'm afraid it's not a fashionable new dress. Colored fan singing and dancing, the tooth plate is now, only hate no one, can sing and dance all kinds of music to understand. Empty sleeves and tears, only relying on lonely cold bamboo!
Banquet Qing Jingshi, send Ma Linfu to Nangong for rhyme.
Song Dynasty: Wu Wenying
Willow trees are very dark in spring. Dongfeng Li, send Yunyan Gao quickly. The scroll is raining, the snow is falling outside the window, and the well is cold and the pen is frozen. Home Lin Xiuju frost old, laugh, toad kiss laurel seeds. Yingmaoyuan, fighting in the black dragon, only the tide to blame Wu Feng.
Jade eyebrows hide China, Lingyun air pressure, a thousand-year cloud dream. The name is lighter than ink, and the robe is purple and green. Flying apricot garden new sentence, dazzling and charming, spring outing suddenly vertical. With a happy sound, the magpies surrounded the stadium and the red curtains moved.
The autumn wind broke the hut.
Tang Dynasty: Du Fu
In August and autumn, the wind roared and rolled up my three hairs. Hair flew over the river and sprinkled on the periphery of the river. The highest one hangs a long forest tip, and the lower one floats to Shentang 'ao.
The children in Nancun bully me, and I can't stand being a thief in the opposite direction and openly carrying Mao into the bamboo forest. My lips are burnt, my mouth is dry, and I can't breathe. When I came back, I sighed at my staff.
In an instant, the wind will set the color of the clouds and ink, and the autumn will be bleak and dark. This cloth has been as cold as iron for many years, and Joule has been lying down and cracking. There is no dry place in the bedside table, and the feet are numb with rain. What's the point of getting wet all night?
There are tens of millions of luxury houses in Ande, which greatly protect the poor in the world, with a spring breeze and a mountain of wind and rain. Oh! When I suddenly see this house in front of me, I will freeze to death alone! (Death is enough: Death is enough)
It is very cold in Taiyuan except at night.
Ming Dynasty: Yu Qian
Send a message to the world, travel light.
The spring breeze is not far away, just to the east of the house.
Resentment in spring
Tang Dynasty: Liu
The sun is shining outside the screen window, and dusk is coming; Lock the gorgeous house, no one sees my sad tears.
The courtyard is lonely and the spring scenery is dying; Pear flower falls, close the door.
Qingping Ledu Subo Mountain King Temple
Song Dynasty: Xin Qiji
Hungry mice ran around the bed and bats danced around the dark oil lamp. There was a breeze blowing in the room, and it rained heavily. I talked to myself between the broken paper windows.
From the northern frontier to the south, and now retired to the forest, it is already an old face with white hair. A cold autumn wind blew through the thin cloth quilt and woke up suddenly. It was still a dream country in front of me.
The following is a brief introduction of some authors:
Du Fu (A.D. 7 12- A.D. 770), with beautiful words, called himself a young man with a young age. Han nationality, originally from Xiangyang, is from Gongxian County, Henan Province (now Gongyi, Henan Province). A great realistic poet in Tang Dynasty, together with Li Bai, was called "Du Li". In order to distinguish Li Shangyin, Du Mu and Xiao Du Li, Du Fu and Li Bai are also called Da Du Li, and Du Fu is often called Lao Du.
Du Fu's influence on China's classical poetry is far-reaching, and he is called "the sage of poetry" by later generations, and his poems are called "the history of poetry". Later generations called him Du Shiyi and Du Gongbu, and also called him Du Shaoling and Du Caotang. Du Fu wrote such famous works as Spring Hope, Northern Expedition, Three Officials and Three Farewells. In 759, Du Fu abandoned his official position and went to Sichuan. Although he fled the war and lived a relatively stable life, he still cared about his life and managed state affairs. Although Du Fu is a realistic poet, he also has a wild and unruly side. It is not difficult to see Du Fu's heroism and dry clouds from his masterpiece Song of Drinking Eight Immortals. The core of Du Fu's thought is the Confucian thought of benevolent government, and he has the great wish of "making the monarch Yao and Shun superior, and then making the customs pure". Although Du Fu was not famous during his lifetime, his fame spread far and wide, which had a far-reaching impact on China literature and Japanese literature. About 65,438+0,500 poems of Du Fu have been preserved, most of which are collected by Du Gongbu.
Xin Qiji (165438+May 28th 040-1207-65438+1October 3rd), formerly known as Tan Fu, later changed to You 'an, No.Jiaxuan, was born in Licheng County, Jinan, Shandong Province (now Sifengzha Village, Yao Qiang Town, Licheng District, Jinan City). Bold poets and generals in the Southern Song Dynasty are known as "dragons in words". Known as "Su Xin" with Su Shi and "Jinan Er 'an" with Li Qingzhao.
Xin Qiji was born in the State of Jin. He is a teenager who resists the return of gold to Song Dynasty. He served as an envoy of Jiangxi and Fujian. He is the author of "Ten Theories on Meiqin" and "Nine Theories", which provided strategies for Chen Zhanshou. Because of disagreement with the ruling pacifists, he was impeached and resigned, living in seclusion in the mountains. Before and after the Northern Expedition, Kathy successively served as the magistrate of Shaoxing, the magistrate of Zhenjiang, and the magistrate of maize. In the third year of the jubilee (1207), Xin Qiji passed away at the age of 68. After the gift to Shao Shi, posthumous title "Zhong Min".
Xin Qiji devoted his life to recovery and self-praise, but his fate was ill-fated, he was excluded and his ambition was hard to pay. However, his patriotic belief in restoring the Central Plains has never wavered, and his passion, concern and anxiety about the rise and fall of the country and the fate of the nation are all contained in his poems. The artistic style of his ci is diverse, mainly bold and unconstrained, with a gloomy and heroic style, but there is no lack of delicacy and femininity. His ci has a wide range of themes, expressing patriotic enthusiasm for restoring national unity with allusions, pouring out grief and indignation, and condemning the humiliation and peace of the rulers at that time. There are also many works that praise the rivers and mountains of the motherland. There are more than 600 words, including Jia Ji and Short Sentences, which have been handed down from generation to generation.
2. Poems about old houses
Spring show neighbors.
Song Dynasty: Chen Shidao
There are no monks and swallow writers in the old house.
I want to go out and laugh, but I don't want to go back to the dust.
The wind turns over three cobwebs, and the thunder bee occupies two official positions.
I broke the promise of spring in the south neighbor, but it hasn't blossomed yet.
translate
The broken wall was soaked by the spring rain, and the snail crawled, leaving a skewed seal character. There were no monks in the shabby old house, only Liang Yan committed a crime and regarded it as a writer. Spring is beautiful. I really want to go out and follow the laughter. When I come back, I feel my face is covered with dust.
Spring breeze blows through cobwebs, and flying insects can still escape on three sides; Spring thunder shakes the hive, and wasps can rank in official positions. I broke my promise several times and failed to go to the south neighbor to enjoy the spring day. I just hope there are still spring flowers that have not yet opened.
Extended data:
The creative background of Spring Show Neighborhood;
Xiu Lin Chun was written in the spring of 1 100 (Fu Yuan's third year). At that time, the author Chen Shidao lived in Xuzhou, living in poverty and writing poems by reading.
The first couplet is about the bleak scene of the continuous spring rain and the shabby place where you live. Zhuan Xu expressed the bleak feeling cup that although he wanted to come out in spring, he was disheartened, which showed the poet's dissatisfaction with life. The necklace was painted in ink since childhood, depicting the lively spring scene in front of us and hiding its inappropriate generosity.
Tailian hit the nail on the head, apologized for failing to live up to the neighbor's invitation, and wrote down that you are still willing to go to the appointment and enjoy the last spring. This poem was written by the poet to his neighbors to explain the reasons for his "repeated loss" and "spring promise" and to express his miserable and lonely life and mood.
The language is sharp and innovative, and the stone turns into gold. The whole poem is deep in emotion and novel in artistic conception.
Baidu Encyclopedia-Chunxiu Neighborhood
3. What are the sentences describing the old house?
1, who gave who a short drift, who gave who a lifetime of memories, only the old house knows;
Only you know who will erode the night with tears and who will give their hearts to tomorrow.
It was near noon when I entered the village. After turning several hutongs, I approached the old house. At first glance, blue bricks and red tiles, cement as the bottom, lime touching the top. Although mottled walls and swaying grass can be seen everywhere, I have gone too far many times and haven't seen the broken scene in my mind.
3, the smoke is still, the body of civil structure withers in the sunset, the fire in the kitchen is burning again, spitting the warmth of a room. In this old house, many years ago, my grandmother knitted a poor life with chapped hands, which warmed my cold soul and lit up my childhood life. The old heatable adobe sleeping platform has been fragmented, with old knife marks on the threshold and dust on the wall. Now, I'm sitting in the old house, but I can't see its owner. I leaned against the old house, leaving only two lines of clear tears on my old cheeks. Although the old house is old, it is still an indelible memory in my life.
The old house in my memory accompanied my childhood and adolescence. I heard that it was built in the spring of the year when I was born. In the northeast of the village, it seems that at first it was just a lonely row of five north houses, and there was nothing else. Later, the wing was gradually built, not to mention the neighbors. Although it is only a row of five rooms, it is said that it has also caused a sensation in the whole village and even the surrounding villages. It is said that it is only because there are many brick columns and red tiles. Because most of the houses built in the village were made of clay or even mud.
I looked blankly, and the old house stood quietly. The broken wall supports the broken roof, like an elderly mother staring at her long-lost son, speechless at each other. The scene in front of and behind the house, the busy figure of my mother in the hospital, the dusk when my father came back from herding cattle, seemed like yesterday, and I was like a kite flying high and far in the sky. My old house is a beautiful hand holding a kite string. It always appears in my dreams at night, arousing my homesickness. Now I am outside my dream, and my old house is in my dream.
6, mottled walls, enduring graffiti; Rusty windows are used to laughter and noise; The dilapidated gate guards one fairy tale after another.
7. Crossing the sleeping stone sill, I found that the door of the old house was short. Touching the slip marks I walked through, I saw the sail shadow of life, gone … Oh, the door leaf of the old house, why don't you sing any more? I remember sitting on your shoulder and spending every quiet night-growing up, so indifferent! I know everything will fall asleep. But until then, my eyes will keep watching, no matter where I am! Tonight, I write down the poem of life, just for you, the watcher of home. ...
8. Ripples paved the square sky, and the tiles with blue lake colors set each other off. The golden glory has precipitated the ancient years, and the green is still precipitated, just like the jade in the pearl plate. Clouds in the sky are like soft feathers, floating in summer. Leaning against the drooping green willows jumping with the wind, they are intertwined and separated harmoniously, as if telling each other's thoughts. There is shade in front of the house, and osmanthus blossoms on the moss stone steps. A courtyard is intoxicated, a courtyard is fragrant …
9, khaki walls, look closely at cracks, the wind penetrated, filled with cold, and expanded my heart. Once upon a time, your full posture appeared in the wind, solid and airtight. And when is the residual temperature in your hand no longer warm? Ask yourself, I'm asking you. Is it too long to wait? I reached out and touched it, and the thick layers of ash on the log table suddenly became public in the air. Makes me cough. I hear your faint breath, such a subtle and heavy sigh. I touched my face and found a wet feeling. Sorry, old house! I saw a girl running around the yard, just like me. You are laughing heartily, and the curve of your face is very soft. Suddenly the girl disappeared, your eyes glazed over, you were bound and locked in the years, and you gradually lost your manners.
10, the old house is in ruins. Pushing open the creaking wooden door, you can see weeds in the yard, half a person's height. The wall of Westinghouse has collapsed, the sun is shining directly on the heatable adobe sleeping platform, and some people are miserable.
The house in the east is still there, but there are many leaks and it is uninhabitable. There are still clear marks on the wall that we scribbled with a brush when we were young. When we opened the door, the room was in a mess, and the newspaper posted on the top window was tattered and dusty. The corner has been covered with bits and pieces of cobwebs, but the spiders have dried up and hung there. The dust on the kang is as thick as the joints. Seeing this scene, I really feel like a lifetime ago.
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