Poetry in memory of the death of a loved one, seven mourning poems. This site provides you with more relevant information for you to understand this issue.
In "Preface to the Lanting Collection", Wang Xizhi said: Life and death are also important.
Death is a major event in life.
No matter how noble the spirit, no matter how beautiful the life, will disappear with death.
People fear death, revere death, and pay homage to death.
There are four major ghost festivals in Chinese culture, and the Winter Clothes Festival is one of them.
Subtlely, every Chinese person feels the teachings of death during the festival. .
The editor has selected seven mourning poems to let us feel the impermanence and cherishment of life.
Jiang Chengzi·Jiang Chengzi's Dreams on the Twentieth Day of the First Month of Yi Mao
[Song Dynasty] Su Shi
Ten years of life and death are so vast that they cannot be forgotten without thinking. Thousands of miles of lonely tomb, no place to speak of desolation. Even if we meet each other, we should not know each other, our faces are covered with dust and our temples are like frost.
At night, I suddenly returned home with a deep dream, and I was dressing up outside the small window. They looked at each other without words, only a thousand lines of tears. It is expected that the broken part of the intestines will be cut off every year, on a bright moonlit night, there will be short pines.
Translation:
It has been ten years since we said goodbye. I can’t bear to miss you but I will never forget you.
The lonely grave is thousands of miles away, and there is no place to express the sadness and desolation in my heart.
Even if you and I meet as husband and wife, I’m afraid you won’t recognize me. I’ve been running around so much that my face is covered with dust and my temples are like frost.
I returned to my hometown in my dream last night and saw you dressing up in front of the mirror in front of the small window.
You and I were silent and speechless, and we could only shed a thousand lines of tears. I expected that your heart would break for me every year, on that cold moonlit night, on that lonely short pine hill.
Ru Fengjun said:
Ten years have passed, but the author is still looking forward to meeting again.
It is clear that flowers have fallen and people have died, but the author still looks forward to being able to "speak of desolation".
It blurs the boundaries between life and death, combines reality and reality, and interweaves dreams and reality.
But the dream will eventually wake up, looking at each other without words, only a thousand lines of tears.
The grief for his deceased wife is mixed with his own life experience.
The whole text is described in white, expressing the emotions between husband and wife in a sincere and sad way, making people feel emotional after reading it.
The ceiling of ancient eulogies is unparalleled for thousands of years.
Huanxisha·Who misses the west wind and is cool alone
[Qing Dynasty] Nalan Xingde
Who misses the west wind and is cool alone? The rustling yellow leaves close the windows,
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Meditate on the past and set the setting sun.
Don’t be frightened by the wine and fall into a deep sleep. Gambling on books will make the fragrance of tea disappear.
At that time, I just thought it was ordinary.
Translation:
Who laments the desolation alone in the west wind, can't bear to see the rustling yellow leaves and closes the window. Let the sunset shine in the independent house and immerse yourself in the memories of the past.
Take a nap after drinking, the spring scenery is blooming, gambling in the boudoir, and the clothes are filled with the fragrance of tea. The once beautiful and happy memories seemed to be the most ordinary at the time, but now things have changed.
Ru Fengjun said:
Nalan Xingde’s wife, Lu, was originally a family marriage.
But Nalan Xingde was astonished by Lu's talents and temperament.
We have been together for three years and have a deep love for each other.
His wife passed away suddenly, and Nalan felt regretful.
Knowing that everything was irreversible, I had no choice but to turn all my sorrow into a sentence: "It was just normal at that time."
During Lu's lifetime, the author was immersed in the greatest happiness in life, but he was not aware of it. He just thought that it should be like this, ordinary.
The implication is that the author feels regretful.
Meng Wei Zhi
[Tang Dynasty] Bai Juyi
Walking hand in hand with dreams at night, rising up in the morning with tears in their hands.
The old man in Zhangpu was ill for three times, and the grass in Xianyang returned to autumn for eight years.
You buried your bones in the mud under the spring, but I sent them to the world with a head full of snow.
Awei and Hanlang went there one after another. Do you know if Yetai knows?
Translation:
I dream of playing with you hand in hand at night, and I wake up in the morning with tears all over my face.
I fell ill three times in Zhangpu, and the grass in Chang'an City has been growing for eight years.
I miss you under the underworld. The soil erodes your flesh and bones and eventually turns into loess. But even though I am still alive now, my temples are still gray.
Awei Hanlang has passed away successively. Can we know the underworld in the dim and dim world?
Ru Fengjun said:
It is rare to have a close friend in life.
Bai Juyi and Yuan Zhen appreciate each other's talents and have the same ambitions.
At the same time, he entered the court as an official, Yuan Zhen was convicted, Bai Juyi saved his life, and both of them were demoted.
During the period, the two exchanged letters and comforted each other.
Nine years after Yuan Zhen died of illness, Bai Juyi was recovering from a serious illness. He dreamed of his old friend at night and wrote this poem.
It is enough to have a confidant in life, and the world should treat him with sympathy!
As soon as Yuan Zhen left, Bai Juyi didn’t even have anyone to talk to.
An old man was chattering, hoping that his old friend could still hear him.
This is so much sorrow and desolation.
Partridge Sky·Everything will go wrong if you go through the Chang Gate again
[Song Dynasty] He Zhu
Everything will go wrong if you go through the Chang Gate again. We came together and returned home differently. After the parasol trees were half dead and the frost cleared, the white-headed mandarin ducks flew away without their companions.
The grass on the original ground shows the first light. The old habitat and the new ridge are both close to each other. Lying on an empty bed listening to the rain outside the south window, who will stay up late at night to mend clothes?
Translation:
When I came to Suzhou again, I just felt that things were different and people were different. Why can’t my wife, who came with me, come back with me? I am like a parasol tree struck by frost, half dead and half alive, and like a mandarin duck that has lost its companion, flying alone and tired.
The dewdrops on the young leaves of the green grass in the wilderness have just been dried in the sun. I lingered in the old room where I lived together, and in the new grave on the ridge. Lying on an empty bed, listening to the miserable wind and rain outside the window, from now on, who else will keep the lights on for me to mend my clothes late at night?
Ru Fengjun said:
This is a deeply emotional and beautiful piece of mourning.
The author and his wife once lived in Suzhou, and later his wife died there. Now when I revisit my hometown, I think of my deceased wife and miss her very much, so I wrote this eulogy.
When I revisit my old place, I realize that things are different and people are different. Everything is as usual, except you are not here.
In this world, the person who once cared about me is gone. I can only wander around my old place, looking for traces of your past.
The whole word is sad and touching.
Crying in Xuancheng, Ji Sou is good at brewing wine
[Tang Dynasty] Li Bai
In Ji Sou’s Huangquan, we should also brew old spring.
There is no dawn at night, who is selling wine to you?
Translation:
Old Ji can also brew Laochun wine underground in Huangquan.
It’s just that there is no Li Bai in the underworld, who do you always sell wine to?
Ru Fengjun said:
This is Li Bai's poem in memory of his friend.
The death of the old winemaker caused the poet to feel deep regret and nostalgia. The poet infatuatedly imagined the life after death of the old brewer.
I wonder if he will continue to make wine and display his unique skills?
But even if you can still make wine on that side of the world, I can’t drink it.
Selling wine and brewing wine were the most common contacts between Li Bai and Ji Sou during their lifetimes. However, this seemingly ordinary trivial matter was the most unforgettable and most likely to cause sadness to the poet.
I will never be able to drink from you again, or see your people again. How can I not be extremely hurt and regretful when rare soulmates are separated from each other.
"Thinking of Mother"
[Yuan] and Gong
The frost wiped out the tears of the reed flowers, and the clothes were wet, and the white heads no longer leaned on the firewood leaf.
During the yellow plum rain in May last year, Zeng Dian returned home from shopping for rice.
He had no choice but to buy rice for his cassock and go home to support his mother.
Now, I can no longer see my white-haired old mother leaning on the chaimen and looking forward to me.
Ru Fengjun said:
There are no gorgeous words in the whole poem, but very ordinary words are used to describe very ordinary past events.
The poet has become a monk, but he still does not forget his mother.
Now my mother is gone too, leaving only a lot of nostalgia.
Poetry is like a yellowed old photo, a low and melodious piece of music, with an aftertaste that lingers in my heart for a long time.
"Ci Mu Tomb on the West Side"
[Tang Dynasty] Chen Quji
The shadow of the sun is dim on the high mountain top, and there are few birds sitting alone at dusk.
In the forest, I was dripping wine and weeping, but I didn’t see Ding Ning telling me to go home early.
Translation:
The poet's mother has passed away. The poet stood alone in front of his mother's grave in the evening, paying homage to her and spreading wine.
The top of the mountain is reflected in the setting sun, and only a few birds return to their nests.
It is useless to regret more, my mother is already gone.
From then on, I never heard my mother’s advice again.
Ru Fengjun said:
The tree wants to be quiet but the wind does not stop; the child wants to be raised but cannot be kissed.
The author uses the word "empty" to express the regret and helplessness of the separation between yin and yang.
A thousand glasses of wine in front of the grave are not as good as a bowl of water in front of the bed.
Facing death and limited life, how do we spend a hundred years in a hurry?
Don’t let life down, don’t let down the present. Perhaps, this is the greatest significance of Ghost Festival.