Wheat's poem

Dynasty: Tang Dynasty

Author: Bai Juyi

Original text:

The Tian family has less leisure in the month, and people are twice as busy in May.

In the evening, the south wind rises and the wheat turns yellow.

A woman's husband is hungry and her child is pregnant with pot pulp.

Go with Tian Xiang. Ding Zhuang is in Nangang.

Summer is steaming and rustic, and the back is burning.

I don't know about the heat, but I regret the long summer.

Another poor woman, holding her son,

Grab the ear with your right hand and hang the basket with your left arm.

Listening to his words of concern is very sad.

My family's taxes are gone, so I can take this to satisfy my hunger.

What are my advantages today? I have never been involved in farming and mulberry.

There are 300 stones in the land, and there is surplus grain in the year of Yan.

I am ashamed to read this in private, and I can't forget it every day.

harvest wheat

Year: Song Author: Zheng Yi

Wheat is as deep as people, and it can't be seen everywhere.

One bud has more than ten stems, and one stem has five or six ears.

The solid grain is big and strong, three times higher than the old one.

I have a car full of calves and tails.

Large tracts of houses have sprung up from the hills.

My aunt took advantage of the day to make trouble nearby.

Besides the poor, Weng Xu has to take care of young children.

The farmer gained something, but he was not ashamed to die.

Go to the summer water rafting house. You won't die.

To make up for what you lost, you can store it.

The cloud asked why the wheat harvest was full.

If you are not a good official, you will be ruled by heaven.

Nothing is the diligence of farmers, and fleas are nothing.

I hereby build heaven and earth, and the rain is coming.

Kill thieves and cockroaches, mu thick.

Those who never forget God's gifts.

Xun went to Quancheng to fetch wheat.

Year: Song Author: Su Zhe

Teenagers eat rice instead of millet, and old people live in Yingchuan without enough rice.

People say that wheat is better than surprisingly, and snowflakes are broken and boiled into jade.

The cold washed the leaves of Sophora japonica on the teeth, and the soup cake and mutton soup entered the stomach.

When in Rome, do as the Romans do for five years. I am full and have food in the morning.

My son Cao knows that I am old and greedy, and the hot spring city is rising.

Tian Jia comes as soon as there is a letter, and the pavilion drives cattle and sweats like taking a bath at noon.

My son was born to study history, not to fight in the battlefield.

This year, after a long drought, the wheat grains are still good, so we have to give up the old night.

I was rotten when I came back, and I was still familiar with the unknown for the next year.

Set aside a hundred mouths throughout the year, and the poor are not as good as the poor.