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Qingming Festival
Why did you come to earth again?
Moist tears
It's wider than the drooping willow leaves on the roadside.
hoarseness
The shivering cold wind roared in the air.
I stayed up all night.
I made a fire to cook delicious dishes.
Trembling hands
Print out a piece of paper money to be caring and attentive.
flying shear
Carve out a string of paper connecting Yin and Yang.
Qingming Festival
Why can't I return it?
Affectionate eyes
Look at the snowflakes and apricot flowers leaning against the fence.
Keep walking.
After autumn, it is spring again.
Beyond dawn
I burned paper money and pinned my thoughts on it.
Three kowtows and a present.
I can't stop complaining about the sadness of not seeing each other in this life.
Insert new branches and add new soil.
I can't write down my wish to see you again in the afterlife.
Tomb-Sweeping Day Modern Poetry 2 stands at Crossstreet Harbor.
The wind is mixed with the soul.
A bright moon
Tell my sorrow
When are the stars?
Melt into your eyes and follow your tears.
Bitter white moonlight
The smoke on the burning paper is blurred.
Silent numbers
Burning the unrequited past
Squatting in the cross street port
Is there mother's moonlight in heaven?
Touch my unrequited heart
Mother's moonlight is like a hand.
Warm and kind
Mother's moonlight is like a soul.
Love is selfless and noble.
Mother's moonlight is like a dream.
The bed wrapped in children tells the fragrance of tomorrow.
At Crossstreet Harbor.
Looking at the distant hometown.
Look at the burning paper
The heart beats with the stars.
Starlight is like a mother's words.
Children should wear more clothes, which rings in their ears.
Tears are in various forms.
Scratch your heart and liver drop by drop.
Sprinkle on the street corner in other places
Kneel at the cross street port
The vast night sky is like the wind, mom.
Take away the desolation
Leave paper dust and a little fire.
Look at the wind in my hometown.
As if to see mother's grave still desolate.
Pour a guilty glass of wine.
Scattered in the cross street port full of thoughts.
Light a column of sweet childhood incense.
Floating to the hills where I miss the clouds.
Look at the moon and stars and bow to the sky.
Pray that mother will be safe over there.
That day, it cried and it rained.
I also cry and miss my father in heaven.
Father bent down, in heaven.
Whether there is spring, the hope of your life.
Rake the field, fertilize, sow and raise seedlings.
These are the four dishes that my father must cook in spring.
It's delicious and delicious, and then it's harvested.
Father invited spring rain and sunshine to accompany him.
Fall asleep in summer ...
When Qingming comes, I bow down to my father in the rain.
Worms don't talk, birds don't sing.
Light incense wax, set off firecrackers and pray for my father.
The kingdom of heaven has a good marriage and is no longer lonely.
Bless our peaceful and bright future.
Pray for children and grandchildren to be full, filial and healthy.
The breeze blowing in the distance, please slow down.
Never awaken my father's dream in heaven.
Smoothing his bent back.
Modern Tomb-Sweeping Day Poem 4 It is raining in Mao Mao.
The cold wind blew gently.
I came to your grave again.
Wash your tombstone with a pot of water.
I just want to be with you quietly like this.
Don't travel through the years
Your back is disappearing.
My face is getting old.
Memories are getting clearer and clearer.
Kindness is like this, and harshness is better than him.
A few strands of sandalwood, bow down.
Past events
Leave only beauty.
I left quietly.
When I came quietly.
Don't look back at you who left the west.
Take away all the sadness
I'm already in my heart
Build a grave for you
Lonely time
Warm a pot of cloudy wine.
Talk to you and put your sadness behind you.
Modern Tomb-Sweeping Day Poetry: A Perspective of Chu Xiao's Five Windows
Rizhao west bridge
Rape flowers shake and shake.
Write melancholy
Put pen to paper panic
Drive home
Qingming lewd rain
Rain flowers fly down
Kneeling in front of the grave with broken knees
Recall that my father likes reading stories.
Singing old songs, relatives and friends crowded the room.
I cherish my father's loneliness and lack of reading.
But it is difficult to send your children to school.
Today's children have grown into forests.
Unfortunately, my father never enjoyed happiness.
Complain about the injustice of heaven
The injustice of the earth
Sigh, sadness
The spring breeze blows wildly.
The spring rain moistened the eyes.
Read Lanpan Guitang.
I am most afraid of not feeling tears.
It's sunny and rainy again.
Fold the chrysanthemum and give it to you.
Sing your favorite song gently.
Break Conan's dream of soul