1, Dragon Boat Festival
Miluo River Dragon Boat Dance, Luoyang City jiaozi fragrance.
Qu Yuan's soul will live forever, and his love for the country will live forever.
Although people die in the name, they just want to spread attacks in the world.
Begging the world to express my heart and report to the motherland that it is a dead bug.
The request is wrong.
Momo, this is sadness over sadness.
2. It's Dragon Boat Festival again.
Think of Zongxiang in my mother's hand.
Think of my mother secretly tied it in.
With colorful ropes in his hand.
In our deep sleep
Folium Artemisiae Argyi stuffed into the ear
Think about my father cleaning the yard.
Walking in the morning dew
Picked absinthe
It is full of grief and indignation to think of it.
Qu Dafu, who cast ginger.
think it over
Xu Shen, a name in the history of Qing Dynasty.
These thousands of ideas are because
Every holiday-whenever there is a holiday.
Feel the melancholy of missing
It's another year of Dragon Boat Festival.
The same drift
The same nostalgia
I walk in the evening breeze.
Find a ray of quiet light
3. Miss the Dragon Boat Festival
Go back to the home where you eat zongzi and the door where you hang calamus.
Back to the cities and villages full of Ai Xiang, back to Qu Yuan's jumping, back to poetry itself.
A river that ends in Hunan flows through everyone's heart in China.
Salvage or search.
No matter how fast the dragon boat is, it is just a shuttle of time.
Dragon Boat Festival, China people,
A spontaneous festival.
Salvage for thousands of years,
For thousands of years,
Should be more important than anything else.
A great theme,
A great man,
A painful question mark and period, a stone asking for directions and a head searching,
Always standing by the river.
Guluo River, a river that flows forever,
The glory of poetry and the river of dreams.
4. "Dragon Boat Festival, listen"
Acorus calamus leaves and wormwood gathers. Ai Chen has been praised for many years.
Tears. Hiding in the corner, hanging on the old moon hook.
The past is like water, take it out, and the thickness of Lisao is layered in the unbalanced rainy season. Introduce helplessness into the nest.
In May, a poem stood outside the door, holding its head high involuntarily.
Excited by the delicious zongzi, the poem went down and remembered the tide of words paragraph by paragraph.
At this time, the Miluo River,
A cup brought by a leaf.
No tears, no worries.
I only hope that poetry will remain the same, and the hardships will be sweet and the leaves will be green.
The troubles that were once wrapped, after thousands of years of baptism,
Listen again, dragon boat minor.
The picture is full; Happiness.
The cold of one dynasty was warmed by another.