Poems in Remembering Mother in Winter Solstice

First frost, Lu Hua, tears wet her skirt, bald and helpless.

Last May, Huang Meiyu Zeng Dian returned to his hometown as a cassock.

2. Ni Ruizhen's mother memory

The river is too wide to sail, so I don't know if it is safe.

When I am in the dark, I am afraid I will cry more!

3. Wang Anshi of Song Dynasty in the Tenth Five-Year Plan

Put mother in the ditch and leave her home in the shade. When I heard about Du Yu in the moonlight, I was always worried about the North and the South.

4. "Arriving home at the end of the year" Qingjiang 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.

5, "The Wandering Son" Tang Meng Jiao

The mother used the needle and thread in her hand to make clothes for her long-distance son. She sewed it carefully, mended it thoroughly,

Afraid that the delay would make him come home late. Who can say that a filial child like the weak can repay his mother's love like the sunshine in spring?

6, "Don't be an old mother" Huang Qing Zhongze

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.

7, "Xuan Mo Map" Wang Yuan noodles

Brilliant day lily flowers, Luosheng North Hall.

The south wind blows the heart, for whom do you vomit?

A loving mother leans against the door, but a wanderer cannot walk.

May the sun be sparse and the day be fearful.

Looking up at Yunlin, I am ashamed to listen to birds.

8. "Whose Son" Tang Hanyu

Who is not crazy, who is not crazy, who will go to the palace to call the Taoist priest?

The old white-headed mother hid her face and cried bitterly, and her shirt sleeves were torn.

Cui Mei's bride, twenty years old, sent her home and cried all over the city.

Or Yun wants to learn to fight, Mu Biqiang.

It's also vulgar and ordinary, risking your position.

Although there are legends about immortals, everyone who knows them knows their falsehood.

Sages can be bullied, but how can they die of poverty?

Alas, Yu Xincheng is my brother, and I am willing to teach in the end.

It's never too late to punish a hundred strategies.

Whose relatives and friends can pity me and write my poems as gifts?