[Han] Liu An was pregnant heavily in October, but the reward was light. Song of Persuading Filial Piety is a one-foot-three-inch treasure, which has been a work for ten years and eight years.
The mother of "Song of Persuading Filial Piety" said that the child lay dry and the mother fell asleep wet. "Song of Persuading Filial Piety" is not seen by the mother, and the child is uneasy.
My mother is one hundred years old and often reads eighty children. Before "Song of Persuading Filial Piety", the prodigal son is not cold.
Song of Persuading Filial Piety is full of love and hardship. Who knew my parents when they hurt me? "Children's Words Are Unbridled" The bald mother hid her face and cried, and her shirt sleeves were broken. [Tang] Han Yu's mother instrument hangs down, the tube is bright, and the night platform is silent.
A collection of proverbs, a thread in the hand of a loving mother, makes clothes for her wayward son's body. 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? Meng Jiao used to live in and chose a neighbor.
In Mencius' laziness, she cut the cloth. The mother of Saint Amethyst, the first relative on earth; Motherly love is the first love in the world.
Strictly speaking, the only uncontaminated love in the world is maternal love. When Yan Yan succeeds, everyone is a friend.
But only mother-she is the partner of failure. Zheng Zhenduo mourned his parents and gave birth to me.
The Book of Songs has neither father nor mother. The Book of Songs is the virtue of the father and the legacy of the son. Clear pronunciation and mellow voice, parents respected; Give children a good education.
Don't be happy to have a son, and don't sigh without one. [Tang] Han Yu people see that boys and girls are good, but they don't know that men and women make people old.
[Tang] Wang Jian's parents are both on earth; The rarest person in the world, brother. Motto Lian Bi is the best parent in the world; Being a child is the greatest filial piety in the world.
My father gave birth to me, and my mother bowed, caressed, nursed, nurtured, cared and answered me. In the Book of Songs, the father is unkind and the son is unfilial; A brother who is not a friend is disrespectful; If the husband is unfair, the woman will be unhappy.
[Southern and Northern Dynasties] Yan Zhitui did not have a good father and brother in his life, nor did he have a strict teacher and friend outside, but few people succeeded. [Song] Lv Gongzhu's parents do whatever they want, and I will continue to describe it; I cherish the thoughts of those parents.
This motto is hung on the wall.
2. Poetry that reflects the warmth of maternal love. A loving mother loves her son and asks nothing in return. Liu An [Korea]
In October, the baby is heavy and the reward is light. Song of exhorting filial piety
One-foot-three baby, ten years and eight years' work. Song of exhorting filial piety
The mother said that the child was lying dry and the mother was asleep and wet. Song of exhorting filial piety
The mother's bitter son has not seen it yet, and the child's mother is uneasy. Song of exhorting filial piety
My mother is one hundred years old and often reads eighty children. Song of exhorting filial piety
With a loving mother, the prodigal son does not feel cold. Song of exhorting filial piety
I didn't know my parents when I loved them. Children's language
The old white-headed mother hid her face and cried, and her shirt and sleeves were broken. Han Yu
When the mother instrument hangs down, it is bright and the night platform is silent. Motto collection
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? [Tang] Meng Jiao
Yesterday, Meng Mu chose a neighbor. In Mencius' laziness, she cut the cloth. Three Character Classic
Mother, the first relative in the world; Motherly love is the first love in the world. Strict words
The only unpolluted love in the world is maternal love. Strict words
When you succeed, everyone is a friend. But only mother-she is the partner of failure. zheng zhenduo
Mourn for my parents and give birth to me. The Book of Songs
What's wrong with having no father? What's wrong with not having a mother? The Book of Songs
A father's virtue is a son's legacy. Strict words
Parents are highly respected; Give children a good education. Motto couplets
Don't be happy with children, and don't sigh without children. Han Yu
Everyone knows that it is good to have boys and girls, but they don't know that men and women will make people old. Wang Jian
All parents in the world; The rarest person in the world, brother. Motto Lian Bi
Being a parent is the best in the world; Being a child is the greatest filial piety in the world. Motto Lian Bi
My father gave birth to me, and my mother bowed to me, caressed me, nurtured me, nurtured me,
Take care of me and answer me. The Book of Songs
Father is not kind, son is not filial; A brother who is not a friend is disrespectful; Husband is unfair.
This woman is not smooth. Yan Zhitui [Southern and Northern Dynasties]
There are no virtuous fathers and brothers in life, no strict teachers and friends outside, and few people can succeed. [Song] Lv Gongzhu
Parents do whatever they want, and I will continue to describe it; I cherish the thoughts of those parents. Motto Lian Bi
3. Motherly love is a word of praise for maternal love. 1. Motherly love is like the sun. No matter how long, no matter where you go, you will feel her shine and warmth. 2. Motherly love is your heartfelt advice when you are confused; Motherly love is an earnest reminder when traveling; Motherly love is a kind smile when you are lonely and helpless. Motherly love is the sun that warms your heart. Maternal love is the rain and dew that moistens the soul; Motherly love is fertile soil for irrigating the soul; Motherly love is a rainbow that beautifies the soul. There is a kind of love that is praised by the world, and there is a kind of love that can make people feel the warmth it brings all the time. This kind of love is maternal love, which is like a flaming sun, an oil lamp in the dark, a sweater in winter, and a mountain stream. Little by little, the trickle flows into a gurgling stream, and little by little, the care flows into a thick maternal love. 5. It is a vast ocean, revealing a broad mind; It is a fertile soil, raising children to grow sturdily. The greatness of maternal love lies in its selflessness. It is a crutch in difficulties, helping you find your center of gravity when you stumble, and supporting a hopeful vilen. 6. Motherly love is a drop of dew, kissing the dry soil, looking forward to the fertility of shiny soil with the warmth of drizzle and the persistence of diamonds; Motherly love is not the freezing point in life, but a flowing river, which creates beautiful emotional scenes in our lives. 7. What is maternal love? I can't give an exact definition. I only know that she was eagerly waiting for me before I was born, caring for me during my growth and pestering me around. This kind of love even penetrated into every pore of me until she exhausted herself, and I didn't understand it until very late. 8. Motherly love is a troubled guzheng. When your loyalty is low, elegant melody comes and your eyes turn green immediately. Motherly love is a landscape painting. Keep fresh and natural. 9. Motherly love is a cloud in the sky. It always lets the scorching sun pass through her body first, and brings peace and motherly love to the earth. It is the chardonnay after the rain that always makes the washed earth lie in her arms and writes colorful life dreams in the high sky. Motherly love is an intoxicating spring breeze, a drizzle that nourishes everything, a laughter that accompanies you all your life, and your lingering thoughts of wandering around the ends of the earth. 105 Motherly love is idyllic, leisurely and clean; Motherly love is a landscape painting, natural and fresh; Motherly love is a song, tactfully affectionate.
4. Warm sentences about maternal love 1, mom, where you are, where is the happiest place! Happy Mother's Day
2. Mom, on today's Mother's Day, I want to tell you that you are the perfect combination of my mother, confidant and friend. Daughter loves you forever!
3. Mom: You have worked hard! I didn't know Mother's Day was coming unless Guangzhou Mobile reminded me. While it is a mother's holiday, I pray to heaven and earth, prove my sincerity with China Mobile, and wish you good health.
4. Mom: I love you. If you are the blue sky, I would like to be the white clouds in the sky. If you are a mountain, I would like to be a small tree on the mountain; If you are the sea, I would like to be a fish in the sea. I wish my mother a happy holiday.
5. Mom's nagging, like the old and new weather forecast, warns you in advance; Mother's nagging is endless like a hot spring. I deeply wish my mother a happy holiday!
6. Mom has worked hard: my growth is a bar engraved on your forehead; My indulgence is a vertical bar engraved on your eyebrows; My happiness is the fishtail carved in the corner of your eye; My success is a dimple engraved on your lips, mom, you have worked hard!
5. Poem title praising mother's warm embrace: Buxu.
Year: Tang Dynasty
Author: Si Kongtu
Genre: Seven Musts
Content:-
A mother failed to teach, and three yuan was sent to the kettle.
Shao Yunyun vulgar stop Yao color, Luan River low flying brush treasure furnace.
Title: Gu Congjun
Year: Tang Dynasty
Author: Wang Jian
Genre: Ancient Five Dynasties
Content:-
The Han family is single-minded, and there is no bend in the river for a day. Come from the floating cloud road and the car will stay overnight.
The cannon city is surrounded by drums and horns, and the felt tent is in the valley. Hang the pot slurry immediately and divide the drill into two cheeks.
When I came to high school, my parents finished. When I can't see my home, the wind blows my clothes.
The golden sore is in the joint, and the arrow is pulled out. I heard that in Liangzhou, every woman cries.
Title: Cherish Nujiao
Year: Song Dynasty
Author: Wushan Goddess
Type: word
Content:-
The time is strange. In fusang palace. The sun and the moon are always bright and lovely. No melancholy. The great emperor frequently indulged in Yaochi. Outside Zhu Lan, fly by Phoenix. The leader was very happy and drunk. Baole blows together. It's full of virgins and prostitutes. Every three cups, you should "bow" with the virgin Mary. Different fruit names are thousands of flowers and fragrance. Eager to return. But riding a phoenix car.
Title: Wandering Song
Year: Tang Dynasty
Author: Meng Jiao
Genre: Yuefu
Content:-
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?
Title: Gift for Maoxian Weng
Year: Tang Dynasty
Author: Yang Sifu
Type: Gucci
Content:-
Yu Lang rode a white crane in the sky, and the golden jar behind his elbow contained medicine. I will swim to the next five days,
Lao Qing looked back at Guo at that time. Feathers are as light as snow, and children on the clouds hold crimson knots.
Wang's mother sewed a purple kit and hid it in her arms. Mr. and Mrs. Wei,
Dongyue looks for his true daughter together. Looking for rhyme and spring, the article is not human language.
Medicine strengthens bones, and heaven and earth are in harmony. Home is in Sun Moon Palace,
Looking down at Kunlun, why is it abrupt? A child's jade looks better than others, with green hair and radiant beard.
General Manchu's disciples are willing to throw dust at me with their teachers. Jiuzhuanlang
6. Poems for Mother
On the night of Mother's Day,
I let the flying waves,
Send distant condolences,
Mother's hearty smile,
Laughing at my heart is sweet as honey.
I only remember my mother's young face.
She cultivated in the blue sky and white clouds,
The green waves in the field are covered by vigorous figures.
She plowed beside the roaring carriage,
The focused eyes are so beautiful and serene.
Yes, everyone has their own mother.
Sweet milk,
Full of my young blood,
In the mother's arms,
My happiness grows slowly.
The first time I left my mother,
I saw my mother's tears flowing silently.
Turning my eyes, I suddenly found that,
It turns out that mom is the paradise of that family.
No matter the ends of the earth, no matter spring, summer, autumn and winter,
Mother's concern, in my heart forever,
The warmth of home is always recalled in my heart.
Mother wore a wide apron,
She leaned against the kitchen door and smiled at me.
Watch me eat, watch me happy and sad.
When I fall into this world, my heart is twisted,
It's mother, who let me out of the fog of confusion,
It was my mother who washed away my pain and vicissitudes.
My mother!
When youth is gone,
When wrinkles and white hair overflow your heart,
The only constant is that,
This is your tenacity and strength.
Every time,
In the softest part of the atrium,
Miss you, worry about you,
I like dreaming in quiet nights,
Look at the blooming daisies on your face,
Oh, mom, my dear mom!
Now, you are north of the Yangtze River,
And I, on the south side of the Yangtze River,
The wide river can't stop the shuttle of time and space.
Because your blood is gurgling in my body.
In a vague dream,
Mother fixed it as an oil painting,
In this painting, there are white clouds, blue sky and sunshine.
Mom's smile is like the beautiful Mona Lisa.
That's an eternal smile, that's maternal love.
7. Poems about Mother From the day I was born, I fell in love with my mother's face-I stared at the slanting sunset, and the hippo carried the moon and the newly emerging stars, which were full of my sadness. My thoughts swim loudly in the ink, and my pen is full of summer thoughts on the manuscript paper. My eyebrows were twisted out of the muddy night, and my mother's messy hair was twisted out. In a delicate rain, by the river in my hometown, I remembered my mother's beauty and gentleness. I thought of my mother's smile, and acacia climbed up my cheeks. I am every cheerful river in the moonlight, and my dream lies on the riverbed of my hometown, with a hot land. My mother's eyes are full of traces of time. I stared at the years. Like a sickle waiting for autumn harvest. I swing in the sweet fruit. My autumn belongs to the season of poetry. Every memory of my hometown lives in my mind. A flock of sparrows flew in to grab all the poems related to dreams. I'm a kid with a slingshot. Suddenly, my eyes filled with tears. My eyes fly along the rolling mountains, overlooking the dreamy colors of human beings. Swallows flew to me and whispered kindly. I playfully hung upside down on the branch, playing with the secret of my palm print. Those wild vegetables, stones and rabbits, I walked through the night with the torch of spring, stood on the barren hills with the wings of my poems, and the eagle swept over to grab the mature grains. I sang songs in the early morning of autumn, and I selflessly planted my childhood longing and passion in the happy countryside. The language of poetry is now silent wheat. I lay peacefully in the eyes of fireflies, and my poems took me to heaven. Inadvertently picked up the wings of a pair of waterfowl and outlined a blue sky of their own. I walked under the willow leaves in May, and gained my moist eyes. My mind is surrounded by crazy desires. I am an affectionate person, telling the story of this river. I saw my father wriggling painfully. My father lost the dam on that bright night. Now, I put my father's smile and silent river into my burning dream and burn yellow November with moldy poems. I saw my mother's thin back and tenderness for my father. Her love for her father is buried in a mountain of loyalty. I don't know how to comfort me I tried to make a law on the crazy river and install poetry stones to stop the living body in the rainy season. I entered the language. Walking into a river, I drew a pair of angry eyes on the shore of the rising tide. My mother struggled to crawl in tearing pain. The years passed slowly on her mottled forehead. In the wet rainy season, her hard bones and muscles were soaked by a kind of rheumatism. I tried to turn all the poems into distilled medicinal liquor, sprinkle them on the wheat field in May, let the flames grow wantonly in the wheat field, let the language run rapidly in her veins, and let the poems be freed from pain. After my parents couldn't walk upright, I lost my memory overnight. I have been talking about the fate of grass with my mouth open like a scalper. I became a sleepy pig. I ate tons of grain and thoughts day and night. My mother planted my life in Yuan Ye's hometown with tears in her eyes. The silent century came back to life in my soul. I have always been that stubborn person. I gave birth to a fresh breath in the land where I breathed. I planted the seeds of poetry in Yuan Ye. I am looking forward to the growth of poetry. After sowing, my sick mother had food for the winter. I tried to bury myself with the words of my soul. In fact, I have long been captured by poetry. Father also became one of those smooth stones, a string of strong eyes opened in the soft moonlight, and a string of fruits crossed the high peaks. Father's figure gradually became a fossil of poetry in the biting cold wind. My soul is in the light of his spirit. I walked through the night and trudged through my tenacious rings. Holding the stars and flames high above my head, my dry eyes were pierced by the pain of a long arrow. Finally, my soul returned to the middle of the river. I spread out a piece of manuscript paper, faded manuscript paper Many times, I used the innocence of my childhood to write about freedom and life. Perhaps, only an imaginary butterfly can dance in every corner of April, but I despise the butterfly's hospitality and don't accept her gentle caress. I hold the inspiration of flame in one hand and cheap ideas in the other. I walked through vilen, where memories spread. I am the one who is fascinated by poetry, sitting under the old locust tree to enjoy the cool. I was accidentally chewed into a sexy soybean by those glib women. I will use it in the name of poetry in May. Language In order to build that beautiful home, I am used to talking to shadows. I imagine a flying fish. I am eager to have a flying mood. I sat opposite the river, without any language, and my breathing fluctuated. At this time, those childhood days are like the river.
8. There are poems about mothers. Those famous poems written by Xi Ruoyun's mother. Don't hurt my heart, my child. I'll forgive you for any stinging. When the woman finished speaking, she found that her dead mother had said the same thing to her. Who can know how the mountain is stinging and how desolate it is? Distant paper boat 2,-Send Bing Xin's mother. I never refuse to throw away a piece of paper. I always keep it-keep it, fold it into a boat and throw it into the sea.
Some were blown into the window of the ship by the wind, and some were wet by the waves and stuck to the bow. I am still not discouraged, and I always hope that a person can only flow where I want him to go.
Mom, if you see a white boat in your dream, don't be surprised that he dreams for no reason. This is your beloved daughter with tears in her eyes. Wan Shui Qian Shan, ask him to take her love and sorrow home. When the rainy season came, my mother had just passed. I gave my mother half an umbrella to protect the child from the wind and rain, and my mother pushed it to me. Ah, the child under the umbrella, the mother outside the umbrella. Rain is no longer rain, but a happy and tearful day given by God to the world, just like walking on a road with frequent storms. Mother is at the forefront. Let some umbrellas for children to shelter from the wind and rain be given to mother, and mother will push them to me. Ah, the child under the umbrella, the mother outside the umbrella. Rain is no longer rain, but a tear of happiness that God sent to the world. Dear mom, I love you. I will always be your child. I will always need the touch of your palm. Dear mother, I love you as deeply as a stream loves a mountain. I hug you warmly and cherish the warmth of spring selflessly. I am a wild goose flying south, with creamy tenderness. I love you, my dear mother. I love you, the smell of mountains, air and water. In my youth, you carefully designed every second of my life for me. Every minute on many bright red days, I wrote poems on your wrinkled forehead with my flowing poems and enthusiasm, picked off a bunch of the brightest roses, and pinned all my dear words on my mother. My mother said I was stupid. Roses are flowers that symbolize love. No, they are also flowers that children want to give to my mother. Unfortunately, I haven't listened to my mother's childhood jokes for a long time, and I fell asleep before listening, my mother said. Silly child, what a mother wants to say to her child has never been finished. So, she gave another song * * * 1 The life of a mother in a storm is like walking on a road with frequent storms, and her mother is at the forefront. Let her mother take some umbrellas to protect the children from the wind and rain, and her mother will push them to me. Ah, the child under the umbrella, the mother outside the umbrella, rain is no longer rain, but a drop of happy tears sent by God to the world. 2. Hard-working people can leave their bodies, but people won't, just as we won't forget our ancestors and mothers. Mother is the quilt on our body. Without her, we will feel cold. Mother is the salt in vegetables, and life would be tasteless without her. Mother must have her pain. Those lingering pains often hang on her face and are intertwined with our children's smiles. Tell my mother with all my dear words that my mother calls me stupid. Roses are flowers that symbolize love. No, they are also flowers that my children want to give to my mother. I really regret that I haven't heard my mother tell my childhood jokes for a long time. My mother said, silly child, I can never finish what my mother wants to say to her children. Even if I sleep in the grave, you will always be my concern (end).
I'm afraid I'll be late when I leave. An inch of grass speaks, three wisps of spring.
There are many.