During the Qingming Festival, vegetation is in full bloom. Ancient and modern sages compete for praise. Poetry, wit and elegance. The human landscape is lifelike.
For example, Wen in the Tang Dynasty, Chen and Huang Tingjian in the Song Dynasty all have excellent works, and they praised the true feelings of Qingming's outing from different angles. The seven-character poem Qingming written by Du Mu in the Tang Dynasty is the most widely spread and the highest achievement:
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.
A Tomb-Sweeping Day is read and loved by people. On this basis, the first new work has been continuously derived.
Someone wrote it as a six-character poem:
During the Qingming Festival, it rained in succession, and pedestrians on the road were driven out of their wits.
Excuse me, where is the restaurant? The shepherd boy pointed to Xingzi Village.
Others reduced it to a five-character poem:
It keeps raining, and pedestrians want to die.
where is the restaurant？ Point to Xinghua village.
And those who turn it into a wonderful word:
During the Qingming Festival, it rained a lot.
On the way,
Pedestrians want to break their souls.
Excuse me, where is the restaurant?
A shepherd boy pointed,
Xinhuacun; Apricot Flower Village
There are even people who imitate it to write couplets for restaurants:
This is where the shepherd boy pointed.
Why ask Xinghua village again?
The most interesting thing is that someone adapted it into a small script for a shot of Tomb-Sweeping Day:
Qingming Festival
It often rains.
On the way.
Pedestrian: (trying to kill the soul) Excuse me, where is the restaurant?
Shepherd boy: (pointing to the distance) Xinghua Village.
Although the scale of this script is not large, only 28 words, but the title, time, scene, place, characters, expressions, actions, dialogues, plots and other elements are all available, which is really interesting.
Writing here, I can't help exclaiming: Tomb-Sweeping Day not only has "rain after rain", but also Tomb-Sweeping Day has "poetry after poetry"! Let me join in the fun and write a few "poems" for our beautiful home with a clear framework, format and rhythm. Although you are poor, don't laugh.
There are many languages all year round, and online tourists are flocking to them.
Excuse me, where are you going? Chorus 265 village!
Qingming Festival
Every year in Tomb-Sweeping Day, I think of Huang Tu and want to see my grandfather. He slept there for five years, and I have never been to Tomb-Sweeping Day in these five years.
Huangtu Mountain is not very high, covered with pine trees, and there is a muddy path I complained about. Perhaps it is the humidity that is indispensable for Qingming.
When I was a child, I only remembered a grandmother who lived there. My grandfather's mother heard that she is a very strict woman with small feet (grandpa is a big man). Every time I see that protruding grave, I have a knot in my heart. I wonder if I feel guilty and afraid. I always thought that she would suddenly jump out of the coffin and hit my grandfather's iron pliers on my head. At this time, I can't help standing in the distance, watching grandpa pile up the loess again, just knocking my head and leaving quickly.
In the Spring Festival of the new century, grandpa went to Huangtu Mountain, where his mother was waiting for him. I think his mother might be happy. Graves on the loess mountain have more roads, which are narrower every year. Every time I see this deep pine forest, I always think of my grandfather's heavy wooden knife, a shiny shovel and stories in the cool autumn night.
Grandfather's story seems to be more than just his beard. Both Tang Hanying bear and monster are the most precious wealth of my childhood. However, these stories are becoming more and more vague and will be forgotten and never mentioned again. Even if someone talks about them, I won't listen any more.
When my grandfather's life has become a story we often tell, his grave has been changed layer by layer year by year. In my dream, he seldom knows that he is really getting farther and farther away from me.
Ming and Qing Dynasties (Prose)
Xia Zhengping
At this time, my grandmother must be standing on the gazebo at the top of the mountain looking at home.
Grandma chatted with her old sisters and looked at the cement road at the foot of the mountain from time to time.
The white cement road winds among the green fields, with cars like beetles and people like ants. Grandma's eyes stayed on them one by one. She knows that when the spring breeze blows, her children and grandchildren will come up the mountain to see her.
"In the spring of March in Qingming, the peach is red, the grass is green, the swing is laughing, and the yellow flowers and green fruits compete for the grave." My mother bought colorful paper from the town long ago, twisted it into strings of floating money like copper coins with a knife, and then folded it into glittering gold ingots with tin foil to honor her late elders when preparing to go to the grave. At this point, my mother is very generous. She always has enough money for her old friends. Where's father? Then take out the good cigarettes and wine he usually hates and prepare to go to the grave to share with his relatives.
We children are also looking forward to Tomb-Sweeping Day with our fingers broken. Beginning of spring, rain, fright, vernal equinox and Tomb-Sweeping Day are approaching day by day in our expectation.
The sunshine is a little warmer, but the wind is still a little cold. Rape flowers are bright and dazzling. Grandma who was looking at the gazebo at the top of the mountain suddenly lifted her sleeves and wiped her eyes. Finally, she saw that in the bright spring, her children and grandchildren really came to visit her.
Grandma lives in Shan Jiang. Shan Jiang is not tall, but beautiful. When she was alive, she was attracted by this land of geomantic omen. She often said with a flat mouth, "The Buddha will rest on the mountain, and when I am old, you will send me to this mountain."
Suona sent grandma to the mountain. Grandma sat in a small box and thought happily, and became a bride again. Many of her old sisters-old lady Lin Shengniang with flat mouth, tiger girl selling eggs, little aunt who can be a tailor and so on. -have come over, their graves are affectionately crowded together, and grandma is not lonely.
Now, the grandmother who lives in the mountains is watching her children and grandchildren come step by step in this beautiful spring.
It is natural for us children to walk in front of the grave-sweeping team. The children came riding bamboo horses, with whips made by Yang Liuzhi in their hands, still learning to bark in their mouths, and their hearts were flying up the mountain. There are azaleas and thrush birds on the mountain, and most importantly, the delicious food in my father's backpack hooks our hearts.
Before Tomb-Sweeping Day, my mother always went to the building to cut a kind of cotton cocoon grass. After being washed with lime and hot water, it is kneaded with glutinous rice flour and stuffed with stuffing to make fresh cotton cocoon head jiaozi. Cotton cocoon head dumplings are green and sweet, smell them; Taste it, it's fresh. This kind of cocoon head jiaozi, which can't be released after being slapped, can only be returned to us after the ancestors tasted it.
We don't know whether our ancestors will eat this cocoon-headed jiaozi, just as we don't know where the Dayuanbao folded by our mother can really be used as money. But my parents believe that ancestors and gods will perceive their piety.
"Mom, it's clear. Let's see if you are old." Dad stood at grandma's grave and said.
The grass is ringing in front of grandma's grave, and grandma says, "I miss you, too, son."
Dad shook the bulging paper money in his hand and said confidently and loudly, Mom, I'm here to give you money for your old age.
"Ha ha, rich throat." Grandma laughed and scolded, "What's the use of these rotten papers?" Can't you be real! "
Dad's face turned red at once, and mom was busy taking the food out of the pole and putting green balls, fruits, side dishes and liqueur all over the altar.
Mom, I made some green balls. Come and have a taste.
A breeze blew and grandma floated down from the treetops. She seemed to smell the flowers and plants in the field again, the fresh fragrance of rice, and the sweet fragrance of secular customs, and she couldn't help getting drunk.
Grandma said, "My daughter-in-law still sticks to my heart."
Grandma is not the only one who is drunk. The spring breeze is mild, the sun is warm, and the branches in front of the grave are swaying. Are they also intoxicated with this clear affection?
Colorful floating money hangs on the grave, paper ash flies like white butterflies in the wind, the weeds on the grave have been cleaned up, and grandma sits in the curling smoke and looks at us and smiles. Dad said that everyone would kowtow to their ancestors again.
Grandma, see you next Qingming. The fragrance of the Youth League permeates the mouth, and Qingming grows in our hearts like weeds.
ito
yellow
Shortly after mid-spring, the annual Tomb-Sweeping Day came quietly. Spring breeze didn't follow, but at this time, it gave people different colors of memories of the past. For example, Qingming Festival is a traditional ancient festival, and people still respect the piety of their ancestors, although in another way: for example, small plastic kitchen utensils, transportation, dazzling paper, gold and silver, and paper money with unimaginable denominations.
There are also some people who are "in a foreign land and miss their relatives every festive season." Although they failed to go home in time to pay homage to their ancestors due to work needs or other reasons. However, they are far away from home, still silently paying homage and even mourning in their hearts. These people are classified as truly selfless.
If you miss an old friend, it will be even more painful. Friends are indispensable in life, and good friends are even more valuable. Friends are the warm sun on the road of life. A friend is a listener of the heart. Wherever you go, if you have friends in your heart, you can be happy all your life. Of course, life is inevitably short. If a friend dies unfortunately, who will accept such a blow and how painful it is? I hope that only when I am in Tomb-Sweeping Day, I will shed tears and the past will last forever. "What is life for drinking wine?" Isn't it emotional and lingering?
Qingming is a festival of hope, but how many people miss the past, soothe the uneven pain of their lives, and talk with tears. Regret, tears, just for missing, just for owning.
Gone forever is gone forever, not to mention endless years. There is nothing fixed between heaven and earth. Time just likes playing tricks on everything and doesn't want to shoot the arrow to the extreme. But the short is always short, and the long is always gone. Time can't last forever, even if it is beautiful, even if it is young. Then why should you be sad all your life and not cheer up, so that you are indifferent to your ideals and expectations? Why not sing a song and come all the way?
What should come will come, and what should go need not be forced to stay. Isn't it a happy place to let nature take its course and really spend your life?