The wind blew from the south, blowing his spine. I want to die, and my mother has a reward.
The wind blows from the south, and the wind blows from the other side. God, I have no family.
There is a cold spring under the dredging. With seven children, my mother is very hard.
The yellow bird, with its voice. There are seven children, don't comfort your mother.
Translation:
A soft wind is blowing from the south, blowing the young trees of jujube trees. The saplings grow strong and strong, and it is very hard for mothers to raise their children.
The breeze blew from the south and turned jujube trees into firewood. My mother is virtuous and kind, and my generation is ashamed and incompetent.
The spring water is biting cold, just outside the wall. How difficult it is for a mother to raise seven children.
Crisp and tactful yellow birds call, crisp and tactfully like singing. Raising seven children, no one can reassure the mother.
The Book of Songs? Xiaoya? Guo e
It's me, Polygonum hydropiper. Artemisia argyi is a bandit. Mourn for my parents and give birth to me.
I am a loser, but I am a thief. Mourn for my parents and give birth to me.
It is a pity that the bottle is used up. It is better to die for a long time than to live with fresh people.
What if there is no father? What can I do without my mother? Get a shirt when you go out, and you're exhausted when you go in.
My father gave birth to me and my mother bowed to me. Spoil me, cultivate me, nurture me, care about me, go in and out. The virtue of wanting to repay kindness. Heaven is so chaotic!
Nanshan is fierce and the wind is blowing. I don't care, I'm alone!
Nanshan method, drifting with the wind. Everyone is in the valley, I'm not alone!
Translation:
Look, mugwort has grown taller, but it's not mugwort, it's mugwort. Pity my parents, it's too hard to raise me!
Look at the wormwood that snuggles up to each other, but it's not wormwood, it's Wei Pity my parents, it's too tiring to raise me!
It is a shame to fill the bottle with water, because the bottom of the bottle is empty. Living alone is boring. Might as well die early.
What can I rely on without my real father? What do you depend on without your own mother? Going out for a walk is sad, and getting started is at a loss.
Dad, you gave birth to me. Mom, you raised me. You protect me, love me, raise me, raise me,
I don't want to leave me. I have to be hugged when I go in and out of the house. I want to repay my parents' kindness, and the disasters in the old society are unpredictable!
The height of Nanshan is hard to surpass, and the biting wind is daunting. Everyone has no misfortune. Why am I the only one who was robbed?
Nanshan Mountain is too high to cross, the wind is biting and shivering. Everyone has no misfortune, so I can't be the only one!
Long song? HanYueFu
The pavilion on the mountain is illuminated by clouds and stars. Looking at the distance makes the heart, and the wanderer loves it.
Drive out of the north gate and overlook Luoyang city. The triumphant wind blows long thorns and leaves fall.
Yellow birds fly one after another, biting and making noises. Looking at the Xijiang River, I weep and touch Luo Ying.
To annotate ...
Tiá o: [~ ~] A lofty look. ┃ O: Bright appearance.
Kai Feng: The title of The Book of Songs. The content of the poem is to praise the dutiful son, and then it often refers to the filial piety of feeling the mother's kindness.
Bite jiāo-shaped phonetic characters. Describe the sound of birds singing. Yao Yao: Gorgeous and luxuriant appearance.
Wandering? Meng Jiao
The mother used the needle and thread in her hand to make clothes for her long-distance son. Before leaving, I had a stitch for fear that my son would come back late and his clothes would be damaged.
Who can say that a filial child like the weak can repay his mother's love like the sunshine in spring?
Translation:
A needle and thread in the loving mother's hand was sewn into the homeless man's clothes.
Before leaving, the mother sewed a needle tightly and firmly, fearing that the child would not return for a long time.
Children are like grass on the roadside. How can we repay the warmth of spring?
You can refer to the summary of maternal love in ancient poems/view/bdff 37ae43323968011c92ac.
Lyrics: Lu
Ah ~ ~ ~ ah ~ ~
Every night when I think of my mother's words, my tears are flashing.
The stars in the sky don't talk, and the dolls on the ground miss their mothers [1]
Eyes blinking in the sky, mother's heart, Hua Bing.
The tea garden in my hometown is full of flowers, and my mother's heart is in the end of the world.
Every night when I think of my mother's words, my tears are flashing.
Ah, every night when I think of my mother's words, my tears are flashing.
Ah, every night when I think of my mother's words, my tears are flashing.
Lu pictures
I know the midnight stars will sing.
Homesick night, it echoes with me in this way.
I know the afternoon breeze will sing.
Childhood cicada, it always follows the trend of mutual echo.
When you have prosperity in your hands
The mood becomes barren.
Only to find that everything in the world will change.
When youth keeps a diary
Uzi will turn white hair.
The only constant is that song.
Sing back and forth in your heart