On Tomb-Sweeping Day's handwritten newspaper poems

Qingming Festival

Du Mu [Tang Dynasty]

A drizzling rain falls like tears on the Mourning Day; The mourner's heart is going to break on his way.

Ask local people where to buy wine? The shepherd boy just laughed and didn't answer Xingshan Village.

Qingming Festival

Wang Yucheng [Song Dynasty]

I have lived in Tomb-Sweeping Day without flowers and wine. Like a monk in a temple, everything is depressing and lonely for me.

Yesterday, I discussed new kindling from my neighbor's house, and early in Tomb-Sweeping Day, I lit in front of the window and sat down to study.

Qingming Festival

Huang Tingjian [Song Dynasty]

Every holiday season, I miss my parents, and the peaches and plums smile, and the Noda wilderness is only sad.

Thunder stung dragons and snakes, and the original vegetation in the suburbs was soft after the rain.

It's unfair for people to sacrifice my arrogant concubine and wife, but it's unfair to burn them.

A clever fool has known who it is for thousands of years, and his eyes are full of chrysanthemum.

Qingming is the most important.

Meng Haoran [Tang Dynasty]

Beijing is the annual Tomb-Sweeping Day, and people naturally begin to feel sad and nostalgic.

The carriage creaked on the road, and the outskirts of Liucheng were lush.

Flowers bloom, grass grows and birds fly in pairs.

Sitting in the empty lobby, reminiscing about the past, drinking tea instead of drinking.

Qingming day versus JIU

Gaozhu [Song Dynasty]

There are many tomb fields in the north and south hills, and the Qingming sweeps each other.

Paper ashes fly into white butterflies, and tears are dyed into red azaleas.

When the sun goes down, the fox sleeps in front of the grave, and the children smile at the lights when the night returns.

As long as you are alive, enjoy your wine and indulge yourself. In the grave after your death, you can't taste a drop.

Su Causeway is a tomb-sweeping day.

Wu Weixin [Song Dynasty]

Pears bloom in the light, and wanderers go out of the city in spring.

At dusk, the songs are ready, and the willows belong to a warbler.