The sky is clear and clear,
Looking at the end of spring, I feel deeply sad.
Yesterday’s conversation in bed,
Today’s dreams are filled with tears.
Melancholy is not as loving as a mother,
Sorrow will last forever.
Chunhui is full of love,
I work hard to repay my mother's kindness.
"Poems for Tomb Sweeping Day"
Tears flowed from my eyes during the Qingming Festival.
The lonely green mountains and cold hometown.
The wind blows and the kites fly,
The rain breaks and colorful colors surround the mountains.
Pedestrians want to break away from their melancholy,
Drinking wine and light smoke will make them cry.
The spring breeze stirs up the wine and releases the wine,
Every year, I chant poems in late spring.
There are many tears during the Qingming Festival.
Many passers-by are heartbroken.
There are restaurants everywhere.
Who has the leisure to indulge in alcohol?
There are many ancient and new poems that can fit the mood of sweeping tombs during the Qingming Festival, but they are other people’s poems and fit other people’s mood. During the Tomb-Sweeping Festival last year, in spite of my grief, I composed a piece of "Long Love - Tomb-Sweeping Day" in line with my own mood. The full text is as follows:
The sound of the wind,
The sound of the rain, < /p>
I can't bear to hear the cry.
There is love even in wind and rain!
Looking forward to the Qingming Festival,
Afraid of the Qingming Festival,
I shed tears when offering sacrifices to the two elders.
There is no love between heaven and earth.
It rains during the Qingming Festival, and the soul is cut off from the road. A pot of wine is placed in front of the monument to offer libations to ancestors.
"Qingming"
Liu Qingyu is celebrating the Qingming Festival.
Wanderers are preparing to leave the city to pay homage to their ancestors.
Chrysanthemums are placed beside the tombstone,
It is unforgettable to kneel down and worship my parents.
It rains heavily during the Qingming Festival,
Pedestrians on the road want to die.
I asked where to go to the restaurant.
The shepherd boy pointed to Xinghua Village.
Which poem best fits the mood of sweeping tombs during the Qingming Festival?
There are many poems written by the ancients describing the Qingming Festival. Personally, I think Du Mu's song "Qijue" best expresses the mood of sweeping tombs during the Qingming Festival. It's all very simple, with only four sentences and twenty-eight words, but it expresses the seasonal characteristics of Qingming and people's emotions very well. "It rains heavily during the Qingming Festival, and people on the road are dying. May I ask where the restaurant is? The shepherd boy points to Xinghua Village in the distance."
This poem is so familiar that it comes to mind immediately. What it means is hard to explain in just a few words. Qingming Festival, also called Cold Food, is one of the oldest festivals in China. In order to commemorate Boyi Shuqi who was burned to death, the ancients did not use fireworks three days before Qingming. That is the origin of cold food. Today, Qingming cold food has been mixed into one, and the green dumplings and other foods on the market before Qingming are the legacy of the ancient customs.
Qingming is the spring when all things are in full bloom. The willow trees on the graves of loved ones are once again full of life, but what about people? Walking on the road, you can see paper money and ashes flying in the wind everywhere, as well as grieving people in front of new and old graves. This situation creates a strong contrast. The drizzle can easily cause a lone traveler to miss his or her loved ones, and seeing scenes of mourning everywhere along the way, the words "wanting to die" are extremely accurate.
However, Qingming is also a day for the ancients to go on an outing. The spring is bright, the wheat seedlings are green and the cauliflowers are yellow. Colorful flowers are in bloom. The sadness of missing relatives and the joy of spring are intertwined by the unavoidable day of Qingming. what to do? Have a drink? Pedestrians most want to drink a glass of wine to wash away the unspeakable complexity in their hearts. I happened to hear the melodious sound of the reed pipe. Following the sound, a shepherd boy played the flute happily. The lone poet felt the beautiful spring feeling in the sound of the shepherd boy's flute.
Go drink! But where can a lonely traveler in a foreign land find good wine? The shepherd boy smiled playfully and pointed into the distance: There is the famous Xinghua Village Restaurant with good wine and delicious food, waiting for you. The poet on horseback raised his head and looked into the distance: Sure enough, in the distance, a wine bottle was swaying in the wind.
I thought this poem was written after drinking Xinghua Village’s fine wine.
There are many graveyards on the north and south hills, and Qingming festivals are held in different ways. Paper ashes fly into white butterflies, and tears and blood turn into red cuckoos. The fox sleeps on the grave at sunset, and returns home at night in front of the laughing lamp of his children. If there is wine in life, you must be drunk. Never does a drop of it reach Jiuquan. I don’t remember who specifically wrote it.
During the Qingming Festival, there are many tears,
I kneel in front of the tomb to call my mother.
When I lower my head, I remember my loving mother.
When I raise my head, I only see paper flowers flying.