The ancient poem about painting chrysanthemums is as follows:
"Painting Chrysanthemums" Qing·Sixty-Seven
Young people only love prosperity and good things, but they only know the cold and light fragrance in the late festival.
Several flowers are carried back three paths, and the lonely pine is accompanied by the frost.
"Painting Chrysanthemums" Qing Dynasty·Xie_Qiao
For half of my life, I have been left alone and left to others, but I still have the autumn heart and self-knowledge.
Don’t laugh at the flowers and flowers in Guancheng, but there are proud frost branches at the end of the pen.
"Painting Chrysanthemums" She Xiang of the Ming Dynasty
When picking yellow flowers, the fragrance of dew makes my eyes look at Chai Mulberry.
Who will give Mr. Li a drink when he is romantic? I will sit on the Nanshan Mountain and get drunk at the sunset.
"Painting Chrysanthemums" Qing Dynasty·Anonymous
Who painted Aoshuang plants on the wall, with a faint autumn appearance like a crane_.
The three-path thick fragrance is about to move, and the branches are like wet ink at first sight.
How many flowers are dotted on the ends of the hair, and the presence or absence of snow on the fence is blurred.
Add Yuan Ming to pick it up and create a leisurely picture of gathering fragrance.
There is also one of the most famous poems, which is a painting poem by Zheng Sixiao, a poet from the Song and Yuan Dynasties. This poem about chrysanthemums is different from other poems that praise chrysanthemums as beautiful, pretty, charming and unyielding. It expresses ambitions and reflects the poet's life experiences and ideal pursuits. It is a chrysanthemum poem with specific life connotations. It depicts the proud and aloof chrysanthemum.
Showing his determination to stick to his noble integrity and would rather die than surrender to the Yuan Dynasty. This is Zheng Sixiao's unique sentiment and his vow to be unyielding and loyal to his motherland.
Original text:
The flowers bloom and there are not many flowers, but the fun of being independent is not exhausted.
I would rather die with the fragrance on the branches than blow it down in the north wind.
Today’s translation:
When the chrysanthemums bloom, the flowers have withered. She was alone beside the sparse fence, which made people feel happy and special.
What’s even more different is that she hugs the branches tightly when they are withering, and does not wither despite the howling north wind.