Thanksgiving Ancient Poems on Mother's Day I, "Getting Home at the End of the Year" Jiang Shiquan
I love my son endlessly, and I'm glad to go home.
Cold clothes are needle and thread, and letters from home are ink stains.
If you encounter pity, you will ask for it.
I am ashamed of the son of man and dare not sigh.
Thanksgiving mother's day poems ii. Ode to a Wanderer (Tang) 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.
But how much love an inch of grass has is three times!
Three ancient poems on Thanksgiving and Mother's Day. Maternal love (Yuan) Yang Weizhen
A loving mother loves her young, and Zhao is the Crown Prince.
The dragon and tiger are different every day, and the dog looks forward to the eagle.
There is no six-foot orphan under the knee, and a Zhao is not born in May.
At night, the ghost lights are blurred, and the snow leaks more than four drums.
A hundred officials don't hold Dong Hu's pen, so why do widowed wives shout?
What's more, Han Wangjin stabbed a silver axe in front of the bed, which was a disaster.
Thanksgiving mother's day ancient poems iv. Short Song (Tang) Wang Jian
When a person is born, he rises at dawn. Going up the mountain late, going down the mountain ill.
Thirty-six thousand dynasties in a hundred years, half a day at night will be better.
There are songs and dances, so be sure to be early. Yesterday was better than today.
People see men and women as good, but they don't know that men and women make people old.
Short songs, no music.
Thanksgiving mother's day poetry v. Bing Xin, send paper boat to mother.
I never refuse to throw away a piece of paper,
Save it forever.-Save it,
Folding into a very small boat,
Throw it into the sea from the boat.
Some were blown into the window of the ship by the wind,
Some are wet by the waves and stick to the bow.
I am still not discouraged, folding every day,
I always hope that a place can only flow where I want it to go.
Mom, if you see a small white boat in your dream,
Don't be surprised that he dreams for no reason.
This was folded by your beloved daughter in tears.
Wan Shui Qian Shan begged him to take her love and sorrow home.
Six ancient poems on Thanksgiving and Mother's Day. Mother's other son (Tang) Bai Juyi
Mother, son, son, mother,
There was no light during the day and I cried bitterly.
……
It's not sad enough to welcome the new and abandon the old.
Sad to stay at your home for two children.
Walking for the first time, sitting for the first time,
Sitting there crying and grabbing at other people's clothes.
With your new elegance,
My mother and son are separated.
Not as good as the black magpie in the forest,
Mothers don't lose young males and females.
Thanksgiving mother's day poem seven. Missing my mother
First frost, Lu Hua, tears wet her skirt, bald and helpless.
Last May, Huang Meiyu Zeng Dian returned to his hometown as a cassock.
Thanksgiving mother's day ancient poems eight. Miss Mother Ni Ruizhen
The river is too wide to sail, so I don't know if it is safe.
When I am in the dark, I am afraid I will cry more!
Thanksgiving Ancient Poems on Mother's Day IX. The Book of Songs blows the heart in the south wind.
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.
Is there any cold in the spring? Under Xun.
With seven children, my mother is very hard.
The yellow bird, with its voice.
There are seven children, don't comfort your mother.
The Ancient Poems of Thanksgiving Mother's Day X. "Shooting the Fox" by Tang Hanyu
At night, a bird came to train the fox, boasting and boasting.
It's generous to stop at my house when it gets dark.
Call out those who are afraid of jealousy safely, don't make a fuss.
Gather ghosts to collect demons from friends and fans, and then fall down and draw.
A loving mother is afraid to hold her baby on the table, and her spare time is more about protecting chickens.
I want to be a great teacher. I always lay eggs diligently.
Vertical is harmful, and the bucket handle line is in the southwest corner.
Who said to stop tricks, especially drama, with the intention of abruptly attacking others?
It's been a long time, so why not take a break?
After consulting me, I can shoot, my eyes are in a daze.
The owl fell into the beam, the snake entered the sinus, the husband cut his neck, and the flock withered.
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