Modern poetry to Qingming 1 Qingming comes with rain.
I like rain more and more.
Also fell in love with Qingming
This silent moment
Both heaven and earth are asleep.
Dynasty fell asleep.
Only the souls of our ancestors.
My body.
feel
This comes from the cool breeze deep in nature.
There is a wisp of stone
There are three high mountains.
Looking at the starry sky from a distance
See the smile of the milky way
The wild chrysanthemums in full bloom on you
Is that Keats?
Or A Bing.
in the dark
Pull out the light of hope
Zhuangzi said.
People don't think about running water.
And considering stopping water
Quiet has been a beautiful character since ancient times.
see
see
Hold up a parachute
Landing between flowers and tombstones
Pick up the microphone
Singing in graves and mountains.
The dead man next door
Let's feel it together.
Acacia after one thousand years.
The rain galloped down.
Pierce my heart
Blend into the forest of steles
Can anyone use oratorios to call back sleeping memories?
not have
Maybe A Bing.
He sounds relaxed.
He reflects the moon.
but I ...
present flowers/bouquets
row dragon boats
Memory has no limit.
Like loneliness.
Slowly disperse
In front of sages
No loneliness
And no longer lonely.
Because I won't forget
So the inscription
A wisp of moss
Like a waterfall
Run a thousand miles
Waiting for the sea to change.
Cracked earth ditch
On the sleeping mountain peak
On my mountain peak
Not missing
Not a pity.
Like a lonely floating soul
cannot find
Your own grave.
To Qingming Modern Poetry 2 Qingming
Always accompanied by moving steps.
Rush to the mountains of my hometown
Ancient Chaoshan custom
Restart again
A thousand years of rural history
Let your open eyes look in.
The raindrops of words have fallen.
A vague forest in silence
Images and inscriptions of ancestors
Work together.
Qingming Qingming Qingming Qingming Qingming
That hinge has been looking for a root.
Arouse me deeply
Save some ink.
A stage to depict the entrepreneurial smile of rural predecessors
Can't stand/endure
Bitter and sour emotions become wild.
Plus different breaths.
Surge hit
tears flowing like a spring―tears welling up in one's eyes
Grind and cut a work.
Qingming is another year of Qingming
New and old alternate hometown convergence
The deeds of wave after wave of progress
Affect my heart.
It doesn't matter if it rains in Tomb-Sweeping Day.
Many things are destined to be wet,
The hills where the grass rises are wet.
The cauliflower is swaying and the land is wet.
Time is rounder and fuller, and thoughts are wetter.
Qingming, wet birds are more ethereal.
Ling Tao's tone without music is long and bleak.
The sound is wet.
Loneliness occupied the desolate and empty Yuan Ye.
The crying sky is falling and lying down.
A hill in the distance
Clouds wet the eyes of the sky.
Paper money, Qingming hanging, shovel shovel.
Is a living person, a heavy memorial service.
I didn't miss it until the living became tombstones.
Be trapped in the dust of years, latecomers
I repeat, the story of Tomb-Sweeping Day.
It doesn't matter whether it rains in Tomb-Sweeping Day.
People's tears will wet everything.
The tearful world is better than
More dreamy in the rain,
There is no rain in the world.
Tears are more affectionate.
There is no biggest rainstorm in the world.
Tears are more fanatical.
Tomb-Sweeping Day is a festival connecting the past with the future.
The cold tombstone was stained with tears.
Legacy of predecessors
Brilliant as electricity