The following are some poems about Qingming
He Chongtian Qingming Weather
Song Dynasty: Du Anshi
Qingming Weather, and I will always be drunk. The terrace is green and shady, and the smell is fine. The swallow's nest is square, the basin is small, and the new lotus is covered. It is just a happy occasion. Single clothes, half cage nephrite body.
Pomegranate is beautiful, with a pinch of red. A few repairs outside the window, the cold is leaning against each other. There is a place of concern, which is difficult to meet and empty. Sitting in a boudoir, I am lazy and comb, and I know that the newcomers are haggard.
Qingming
Song Dynasty: Huang Tingjian
On the festive day, peaches and plums smile, and Noda's wasteland only gives birth to sorrow.
the thunder stung the dragon and snake, and the rain made the grass soft in the suburbs.
it's unfair for a man to beg for a sacrifice to his arrogant concubine.
sages and fools have known who they are for thousands of years, and their eyes are full of Artemisia scoparia.
Ren Xu's Qingming Works
Qing Dynasty: Qu Dajun
When he was in the morning, he was light and cold, and when he was in the evening, he became overcast, but he was worried that it was already spring.
the falling flowers have tears because of the wind and rain, and the singing birds are ruthless from ancient times to modern times.
The hometown is full of dreams, while Chinese characters are lost.
dragons and snakes have nowhere to go, and cold food makes them hungry every year.
a touch of crimson lips and a moment of clarity
Song Dynasty: Wu Wenying
a moment of clarity, flowers can't reach Xiyuan Road. Tender shade and green trees. It is the place where spring stays. ?
the swallow comes back, and the past flows east. Collect shirts and store them. A wisp of old cold. Tears wet the wind curtain.
Chao Zhongcuo Qingming Festival
Song Dynasty: Zhang Yan
The sound of rain in Qingming Festival. Tides hold the sand crossing the river. Looking at the pear blossom coldly, life is loved one Tianya. ?
Yan Lian Ying Hu, Yun Chuang Wu Ge, drunken crow. Fold a willow, and when you come back, who will you insert it into?