Famous poems describing spring (including spring flowers, spring grass...)

, Quatrains by Du Fu, Tang Dynasty

Two orioles sing in the green willows, and a row of egrets ascends to the blue sky. The window contains the snow of Qianqiu in the Xiling Mountains, and the door is docked with ships thousands of miles away from Dongwu.

2. Happy rain on a spring night by Du Fu of the Tang Dynasty

Good rain knows the season, and spring will happen. Sneaking into the night with the wind, moistening things silently.

The wild paths are all dark with clouds, but the river boats are only bright with fire. Look at the red and wet place at dawn, the flowers are heavy on the official city.

3. Visiting the garden is not worth it. Ye Shaoweng of the Song Dynasty

Ying Lian’s teeth are imprinted with green moss, and the door of the small buckle firewood cannot be opened for a long time. The garden is full of spring scenery, and a branch of red apricot comes out of the wall.

4. Spring Day by Zhu Xi of the Song Dynasty

The beautiful sun is on the shore of Si River, and the boundless scenery is new for a while. You can easily recognize the east wind, and it is always spring with its colorful colors.

5. Spring Dawn by Meng Haoran of the Tang Dynasty

I sleep in spring without realizing the dawn, and hear the singing of birds everywhere. The sound of wind and rain at night makes one know how many flowers have fallen.

6. Quatrains Zhinan, Song Dynasty

A short canopy is tied in the shade of an ancient tree, and a staff and quinoa help me cross the east side of the bridge. The rain of apricot blossoms makes your clothes wet, and the wind from the willows blows on your face, which is not cold.

7. Birdsong Stream Wang Wei of the Tang Dynasty

The people are idle, the osmanthus flowers are falling, the night is quiet and the spring mountains are empty. The moonrise scares the mountain birds, and they sing in the spring stream.

8. Fishing Song by Zhang Zhihe of the Tang Dynasty

In front of Xisai Mountain, egrets fly, and peach blossoms and flowing water make mandarin fish fat. Green bamboo hat, green coir raincoat, slanting wind and drizzle do not need to return.

9. Ode to the Willow by He Zhizhang of the Tang Dynasty

The jasper is made up into a tree as high as a tree, with thousands of green silk ribbons hanging down. I don’t know who cuts out the thin leaves. The spring breeze in February is like scissors.

10. Spring outing at Fengle Pavilion by Ouyang Xiu of the Song Dynasty

The sun is setting on the mangroves and green mountains, and the grass in the long suburbs is endless green. Visitors, regardless of whether they are old or young, step on fallen flowers when they come and go in front of the pavilion.

11. Spring Hope by Du Fu of the Tang Dynasty

The country is broken by mountains and rivers, and the city is full of spring vegetation. The flowers shed tears when I feel grateful, and the birds are frightened by the hatred.

The war rages on for three months, and a letter from home is worth ten thousand gold. The white-headed scratches are shorter, and the hairpin is full of lust.

12. Jiang Nanchun by Du Mu of the Tang Dynasty

Thousands of miles away, the orioles sing green and reflect the red, and the wine flags in the mountains and rivers in the water village are blown by the wind. There are four hundred and eighty temples in the Southern Dynasty, and there are many towers in the mist.

13. Village Residence Gaoding

The grass is growing and the orioles are flying in the February sky, and the willows are brushing the embankments intoxicated by the spring smoke. The children came back early from school and were busy taking advantage of the east wind to fly kites.

14. Recalling Jiangnan by Bai Juyi of the Tang Dynasty

Jiangnan is good, and the scenery is familiar to me. When the sun rises, the flowers on the river are as red as the fire. When spring comes, the river is as green as blue. Can you not remember Jiangnan?

15. Qingming, Tang Dynasty*Du Mu

It rains heavily during the Qingming Festival, and pedestrians on the road feel like dying. When I asked where the restaurant was, the shepherd boy pointed to Xinghua Village.

16. Hui Chong's "Evening Scene on the Spring River" by Su Shi of the Song Dynasty

Three or two branches of peach blossoms outside the bamboo are a prophet of the warmth of the spring river. The ground is covered with wormwood and reed buds are short, which is when the puffer fish is about to come.

17. Early Spring by Han Yu of the Tang Dynasty

The light rain on Tianjie is as moist as crisp, and the color of grass looks far away but not up close. The most beautiful thing about spring is that it is better than smoke and willows all over the imperial capital.

18. Peach Blossoms in Dalin Temple Tang Dynasty*Bai Juyi

The beauty of April in the world is gone, and the peach blossoms in the mountain temple begin to bloom. Everlasting regret has no place to return to in spring, and I don’t know where to turn.

19. Bochuan Guazhou Wang Anshi, Song Dynasty

Between Jingkou Guazhou and the water, Zhongshan is only separated by several mountains. The spring breeze is green again on the south bank of the river. When will the bright moon shine on me again?

Prose about spring:

Spring of the soul

Zhu Chengming

My hometown has not yet awakened from hibernation, and Guangzhou is already in a state of chaos. Flowers bloom. I came to Guangzhou with a desire, a pen and a stack of manuscripts, to bear the lightness and weight of life to the maximum extent. A pen is already rusty, and the classical feelings cannot find their way in the world of mortals. I hide in the depths of spring and look up at the sky.

Viewing the Flower City is a wonderful thing. I have been thinking about my relationship with Guangzhou. Half a year ago, I quit my job, studied English in Nanchang for half a year, and applied for graduate school at South China Normal University. Now, I rent a house outside the wall of South China Normal University. I sit on the balcony on the fourth floor, basking in the sun and drinking tea. In front of me is the empty sports field, the red circular plastic track, and the green grass on the football field. People are full of imagination. As dusk approaches, the number of runners gradually increases, forming a flowing river, running towards the endless destination.

I have always liked sports, so I became a bystander for a while. Bystanders have the leisure of onlookers, and performers have the excitement of performers. In Guangzhou, there is a quiet room of your own, where you can rest your wandering mind.

After all the busyness was over, too much weight was lifted from life. In the excitement of the New Year, I toasted again and again, and the smell of wine filled all my days. The shadow of youth has gradually faded away, and the enthusiasm for breaking out made me stagger. A person who has lost everything will not get drunk easily. In the alcohol, I may have forgotten some familiar classics, Tang poems and Song lyrics, as well as English words that I once recited day and night. I have always been worried about the loss of these things, which seems to have added to the vicissitudes of life. Wine, like life, is worth savoring. In Guangzhou, I learned to drink beer and red wine gracefully, with all the nostalgia rippling in the cup, and the passionate language dressed in beautiful rhetoric, which seemed to shine brightly. Gradually, I have begun to delete unhealthy chapters in my life, such as alcohol, and re-search for the destination and home of my soul. In spring, there is no audience. Spring allows me to use up the last stroke of my ideas, let me put on the last piece of clothing, let me wake up from countless waiting, and let me come back from the distant hope. In spring, I can't sleep.

The spring in Guangzhou is intoxicating, and I am starting to sprout.

Missing the spring in my hometown

Zhu Chengming

The world is prosperous, but I choose to live in a lonely heart.

In a secluded corner of Guangzhou, I quietly waited at the edge of my thoughts, missing the spring in my hometown.

I left my hometown because of a chase. The search during the day and night enriches me. In my free days, I hold my right hand with my left hand, as if stroking the spring in my hometown. I drank the taste of my hometown calmly, the aroma wafting out of the tea cup, and the passionate temperature made the poetry boil. The green images were as fresh as ever, chasing the mountains and countryside in my memory. I miss everything related to my hometown, poetry and life. I miss the white snow covering our roof. In the upper reaches of spring, my mother is washing radishes by the stream. She always wants to fatten up the days. Through my mother's rickety figure, I saw that the sky was not actually wide. It was only a little wider than our village. When the firewood in winter is burned out, spring is about to come out. Just like the tip of my pen, I always imagine how fast the peach blossoms bloom at my doorstep, how to catch up with the swallows flying in the sky, how to quickly occupy the page of this season, and let the flowers bloom. It has since become the theme of spring. The smoke from my hometown may have become bent in the wind, and I cannot correct it. No matter how much I prick up my ears, I still can't hear the spring in my hometown. Her silence is thousands of miles away from me.

Whose hands weave the spring in their hometown? Who asked me to leave and keep looking back? Beauty is the love hidden deep in a person's heart, and love is the beauty hidden deep in a person's heart. A person is actually a big bottle, filled with friendship and care. It is just the hard world, which makes us always cautious, for fear that if we miss it, the damage will be worse than a drought. A person is actually a big bottle filled with water, food and days. If we need anything else, it must be the view when we get up in the morning glow, open the door and look out, and the tranquility in the sunset. Our hearts are in one place and we keep our mouths shut. We have to carry such a heavy body throughout our lives. Spring is like a river, coming from far away and going far away. Everything seems to be reincarnated in between. It's just fate, but it also requires spiritual piety. The most beautiful spring is in my hometown. The most beautiful spring is when a thirty-year-old man grabs the tail of spring and misses it over and over again. The most beautiful life is so ordinary, we can only walk in the world as slowly as possible.

I often think that the wind has no home. It is better to run with the wind than to live by the water. My soul is like a boat, parked on the quiet water, gradually disappearing into the vastness of the dusk. "The spring tide brings rain in the evening." Which love brings me the thoughts I miss tonight? It must be holding flowers and smiling in the spring in my hometown.

It is spring outside the window

Zhu Chengming

Every spring, I move my desk to the corner near the window. In this way, through the window, I can see the vast tracts of purple milkvetch in the fields, and listen to the frog drums that can't wait to play until nightfall. I think this is a very meaningful thing. My reading and writing have a poetic flavor.

I have been looking for spring, from books, from life, and from the atmosphere created by myself. I try to embroider spring into the picture of life, like an everlasting flower.

This beautiful mistake fascinated me, and I chose to persevere, stick to the countryside, stick to the hut, and weave a gorgeous halo for life.

Life is our last effort on earth. This determines that my aesthetic relationship with reality is just a beautiful spring flower. On sunny days, through the open windows, there will be another kind of flowers in the study. It is rainy in spring, and I am afraid that the naughty elf will wet my beloved books. I close the window and keep the rain out. The sound of water from the eaves hitting the soil floats in continuously, bit by bit, pecking away the fruits of this season. The hustle and bustle evokes the tranquility of this season. In the wind, in the rain, there is a vast tranquility. At night, the pitter-patter rain is drenched with the ups and downs of frog sounds. I am always a little scared. In this season of warm and cold weather, the ruthless rain will extinguish the passionate frog sounds. As a Tang poem said, "A strange frog comes one night." The sound stopped, and the east wind came back and it was cold for ten days." However, my worries are unnecessary. The spring of the 21st century will probably be warmer than the spring of more than a thousand years ago! The development of the times is amazing. The temperature is getting higher and higher, and there are fewer and fewer poems. The spring rain is continuous and it is good to read. In the loneliness and loneliness, I feel that beauty has reached the highest level. This is really because there is spring in my heart.

In spring, all kinds of things are in a hurry to start. Butterflies flutter, bees pollinate, and swallows come from another world for a date that never gets together. Just like this mobile phone text message, "Birds are in love, ants are living together, butterflies are divorced, caterpillars have remarried, you are smart, what are you waiting for?" Hundreds of flowers are in full bloom, thousands of trees are competing for beauty, and the flowing water is more cheerful. The melody runs into the distance. Farmer brothers have sown hope for another year.

In spring, there is no audience. In spring, sleep is death.

Sitting in front of the window, I sang the song in my heart. A man who is heading towards his thirties also wants to quietly write a poem about spring.

The first sound of the spring frog

Zhu Chengming

I have not yet quit the banquet in the first month, and a new semester has begun again. Life always goes round and round like this. I have lived in this secluded rural middle school for nearly seven years and have always worked hard without feeling inferior. Night always brings some peace to my soul. I lean on the bed and recite English words, preparing for a new beginning. Suddenly, I heard the cry of frogs coming from the fields outside the window, hitting my heart. This is a faint sound that shakes my soul more than rock and roll, and makes me start to daydream.

It’s spring again! Although it is still cold and the fields are still sleeping, the frog is waking up. Will they feel lonely? A winter of silence, a field of desolation, I am getting more and more lonely, but still confident and persistent, like these frogs. In such a quiet night, the darkness illuminates our dreams. Sometimes, it is not the light that illuminates everything, but the night that illuminates things. It is the arrival of the night that allows us to see the infinite starry sky, while the day locks us in a limited space. The first frog croaking in spring leads my love to rise. I saw the world angry. I heard the truth of life. The fragile croaking of frogs ignited the faith they persisted in.

In the darkness, the faint sound of frogs chirped, which was so similar to my situation in this village: a desk lamp burning alone in the endless darkness.

The excitement of a world, a person’s dream. Take a break from the busy day and play the first frog croaking in spring.