A good word from aojie Jie

1. About Ao Jiujie's ancient poems and sentences

1. Is there a poem about "Ao Jiujie"?

There is a poem about Aojiu Festival:

1, Lin Zutao's Miscellaneous Fu in Central Fujian.

According to legend, nine years later, it was fragrant and old, and each boiled red dates and hazelnuts.

Sweep away the dust, throw away the filth and send him a rich poor man.

2. Qing Ye Meng Jun's "filial piety porridge"

Steamed pears with oranges have different meanings. A bowl of dates and millet are mixed to eat.

Feeding the same black bird in the annual report shows that Rongcheng has an ancient style.

There are different legends about the origin of porridge: one is that Mu Lian's mother was fierce and was sent to hell to suffer after her death. When Mulian grew up, she was eaten by a kid every day when she delivered food to her mother. She wanted to cook a bowl of porridge with deep color. Children dare not eat it, so they call it "bitter wine porridge", and the days when meals are delivered are called "Aojiu Festival" and "Filial Festival". Speaking of sending the poor out of the source, Xie, a scholar in the Ming Dynasty, said: "The son of Levin, naked, died in the darkness of the first month, causing chaos in the world, abandoning the streets and alleys and destroying the poor ghost."

2. Ao Jiujie's Poems

1, don't mom.

Qing Dynasty: Huang Jingren

The bow curtain goes to the mother river beam, and the tears are white.

This is a tragic snowy night in Chai Men. It is better to have children than nothing at this time.

Vernacular translation:

Because I had to go to He Liang to make a living, I opened the curtain and reluctantly said goodbye to my old mother. Seeing my white-haired mother, I couldn't help crying and my tears dried up.

On this snowy night, it's a pity that we can't be filial to our mother, but we have to hide Chai Men's tragic death. What's the use of adopting a son? I still don't want it.

2. Resign from my mother's grave in the west.

Tang Dynasty: Chen Qubing

The sun on the top of the mountain is dim, and few birds stay alone at dusk.

The forest was empty, but Ding Ning told me to go home early.

Vernacular translation:

The high mountain blocks the sunshine, only the thin light shines, and several birds stand alone in the sunset.

When I sprinkle wine in the Woods to mourn my ancestors, I can only cry, and I can't hear (mother) telling me to go home early.

3. Wandering songs

Tang Dynasty: Meng Jiao

The mother used the needle and thread in her hand to make clothes for her long-distance son.

Before leaving, I had a stitch for fear that my son would come back late and his clothes would be damaged.

Who can say that a filial child like the weak can repay his mother's love like the sunshine in spring?

Vernacular translation:

A loving mother makes clothes for her son with a needle and thread in her hand E69DA5E6BA9062616964757A 68696416F3133366303737.

Before leaving, he sewed a needle tightly for fear that his son would come back late and his clothes would be damaged.

Who can say that a child's filial piety as weak as grass can repay the kindness of such a loving mother as Chunhui Puze?

Step 4 get home at the end of the year

Qing Dynasty: Jiang Shiquan

I love my son endlessly, and I'm glad to go home.

Cold clothes are needle and thread, and letters from home are ink stains.

If you encounter pity, you will ask for it.

I am ashamed of the son of man and dare not sigh.

Vernacular translation:

There is no end to loving your son, and the happiest thing is that the wanderer returns in time.

The stitches for sewing the cold clothes are dense, and the handwriting and ink on the family letter are as new as new.

Seeing that my son has lost weight, my mother felt distressed and called me to ask about the difficulty of the journey.

Mom, my son has always been ashamed of you. He won't have the heart to tell the story of his wandering.

5, in addition to working at night

Tang dynasty: Gao Shi

The cold light of the hotel stays awake alone, why does the guest's heart become sad?

My hometown is thinking thousands of miles tonight, and it is another year of the Ming Dynasty.

Vernacular translation:

When a person can't sleep at night in a hotel, why does the guest's heart suddenly become sad?

Being thousands of miles away, missing my hometown and frosting my beard, another year has passed.

3. Poetry, articles, comments, etc. About O 'Jiujie.

It's the 29th day of the first month, and this day here is called Aojiu every year. At this time, children will send their parents a bowl of porridge to show filial piety and wishes, so the wine festival is also called filial piety festival.

There are many legends about the origin of Aojiu Festival, but the most popular version is that a mother and son lived together a long time ago. Later, his mother died and his son was in great pain. Every day, he brings his mother's favorite food to his grave to worship. Year after year. One day, my son dreamed that his mother told him that every year on the 29th of the first month, there would always be a group of hungry ghosts to grab food. Mother was too old to fight them, so she had to starve. My son is heartbroken. After waking up, I racked my brains and finally came up with a solution. Knowing that his mother loves sweets made of glutinous rice, he put glutinous rice, peanuts, sesame seeds, red beans, red dates and longan together to cook porridge, and added brown sugar to the porridge, and took it to his mother's grave on the 29th of the first month. The next day, the mother dreamed again, saying that the hungry ghost had come to grab food again, but she saw something sticky and black in her son's crock, which looked like a bug. Hungry ghosts dare not eat. Finally, mom is not hungry. She also said that the porridge sent by her son was delicious and she liked it very much. Since then, every year on the 29th of the first month, my son always cooks a pot of porridge that his mother likes to eat and gives it to his mother. People lamented the filial piety of their sons, and gradually this custom spread among the people. Every year, nine children will send their parents a bowl of porridge to express their gratitude for their parenting and wish their parents peace, health and longevity.

Now, on this day every year, the government reminds people to respect and love the old by SMS, and sends a love and filial piety to their parents. Today is the ninth festival again. Did you visit your parents? How much have you done for them in the past days? Nine years old, now nine years old, taking care of the elderly for a long time; Everyone will get old, not today. It's time to honor parents.

Deep sorrow and deep gratitude

Maybe children owe their parents too much in their last life, so God arranged for us to be their children in this life to repay their kindness in their last life. Everyone wants to pay off this debt. But it doesn't seem that easy.

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Year after year, day after day. It's the ninth festival again. But people are carried away by too many complicated emotions in the world and forget that there are two people in this world who are really worth remembering all the time. Those are our parents.

We may not remember their age, but we must never forget the increasing wrinkles on their faces, because that is what we imposed on them; We may not remember their birthdays, but we must never forget their telephone numbers, because that may be the only way for us to contact our parents.

Every household has a strong smell of glutinous rice porridge. My parents did it for themselves. Their children may be running around in a desolate town, but they forget that today is such an important festival. Old people may call with anticipation to ask if their children can come back for the New Year, but the answer isno. Have they considered the feelings of their elderly parents? Disappointed in the end, there is only helplessness and loneliness.

Remember last year's Oktoberfest? My mother and I went to the supermarket to buy the ingredients needed to cook glutinous rice porridge, and then came back to cook it ourselves. That kind of warm scene is still looming in front of us. Our family of three gathered around the kitchen, doing the work assigned to them, without saying much. That steaming is the best proof.

The porridge is ready. I put them on the table in a hurry, but there was silence after I sat down. I think I should say something to them, but I don't know where to start. Just when I was worried, my mother gave me the dates in the bowl. She said it would be better to eat more jujube peel.

I am stupefied. This seems to be what I should say. But why did mom say that? I choked up, didn't know what to say, and finally began to cry. This should be a happy holiday, all because of me. I want it back. I scrambled to clean up the dishes and chopsticks, and scrambled to wash the dishes. I just want them to know that my daughter still loves them.

So the ninth festival gave me a very deep memory.

Lin Zutao's poem "Miscellaneous Fu at the Age of Middle Fujian" says: "According to legend, after nine years of incense, each boiled glutinous dates and hazelnuts. Sweep away the dust, throw away the filth and give him money.

Jesus Christ. "